DEPT^RTAENTHL  DITTIES ^gXS®®®S®@ 
BRRR?;CK  ROOA  BALLKDS  §  OTHER VER5E5 
(^^gX^^Sk^j;^)^®®  BY  RUDYARD  KIPLING  (c5^ 


-^i^^mtmm^ts^ 


LIBRARY' 

UNlV6R«T^  OF 
CALIFORI^IA 
SAN  DJEGO 


m.^rr  AAiDiiy  Mji^^jL 


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PR  4854  Dfc  18"*0 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA    SAN   DIEGO 


3  1822  0 


325  2952 


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DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES, 

BARRACK-ROOM    BALLADS   AND 

OTHER  VERSES 


DEPARTMENTAL  DITTIES 
BARRACK-ROOM    BALLADS 
AND  OTHER  VERSES 


BY 

RUDYARD    KIPLING 


author  of 
"plain  tales  from 

the  hills," 
"soldiers  three," 
"the  phantom  'rickshaw, 
"the  story  of  the 

GADSBYS," 
ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
UNITED  STATES  BOOK  COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS  TO 

JOHN   W.  LOVELL   COMPANY 

150   WORTH    ST.,  COR    MISSION    PLACE 


CorVRIGHT,     1890, 
BY 

UNITED   STATES    BOOK    COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


DEPARTMENTAL   DITTIES. 

PAGE 

Prelude     3 

General  Summary 5 

Army  Headquarters 8 

Study  of  an  Elkvation,  in  Indian  Ink     ....  11 

A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office 13 

The  Story  of  Uriah 16 

The  Post  that  Fitted 18 

Public  Waste 22 

Delilah 26 

What  Happened 30 

Pink  Dominoes 35 

The  Man  who  could  Write 38 

municipai 41 

A  Code  of  Morals 45 

The  Last  Department 49 


iv  Contents. 

BARRACK-:SOOM  BALLADS. 

PAGE 

Danny  Deevek 55 

"Tommy" 59 

"Fuzzy  Wuzzy  " 03 

OoNTs! 67 

Loot  .     .         72 

soldiek,  soldiek 77 

The  Sons  of  the  Widow 80 

Troopin' 83 

GuNGA  Din 86 

Mandalay 92 

The  Young  British  Soldier 97 

Screw-Guns 102 

Belts 100 

OTHER  VERSES. 

To  the  Unknown  Goddess 113 

The  Rupaiyat  of  Osiar  Kal'vin 116 

La  Nuit  Blanche 119 

My  PiivAL 124 

The  Lovers'  Litany ,    ,    .    .    .  128 


Contents.  v 

PAGE 

A  Ballad  of  Burial 131 

Divided  Destiniks 134 

The  Masque  of  Plenty 137 

The  Make's  Nest 14G 

Possibilities 149 

Christmas  in  India 152 

Pagett,  M.P 156 

The  Song  of  the  Women 1(50 

A  Ballade  of  Jakko  Hill 164 

The  Plea  of  the  Simla  Danckks 166 

The  Ballad  of  Fisher's  Boarding-House  ....  170 

"As  the  Bell  Clinks" 176 

An  Old  SoN<i 181 

Certain  Maxims  of  Hafiz 185 

The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head 191 

The  Moon  of  Other  Days 197 

The  Overland  Mail 199 

What  the  People  Said 202 

The  Undertaker's  Horse 205 

The  Fall  of  Jock  Gillespie 209 

Ahithmetic  on  the  Frontier 212 

One  Viceroy  Resigns 215 


vi  Contents. 

PAGE 

The  Betrothed 227 

A  Tale  of  Tavo  Cities 234 

Giffen's  Debt 2o9 

In  Springtime 243 

Two  Months 245 

The  Galley-Slave 248 

L'Envoi 253 

The  Conundrum  of  the  WouKsnors 255 

The  Explanation 259 

The  Gift  of  the  Sea 261 

EvARRA  and  His  Gods 266 


DEPARTMENTAL   DITTIES. 


T  HA  VE  eaten   your   bread   and   salt, 

I   have    drunk   your   water   and   ^imie, 
The   deaths   ye   died   I  liave   xvatched   beside, 
A7id    the    lives   tliat   ye   led  were   mine. 

Was    there    aught    that   I  did   not   share 

In   vigil   or   toil   or  ease,  — 
One  joy   or   woe    that   I  did   not    know, 

Dear    hearts    ac7'oss  the   seas  ? 

I  have   written    the   tale   of  our   life 
For   a   sheltered  iieople''s   mirth, 

In  jesting   guise  —  but   ye   are   wise, 
And   ye   know   what   tlie  jest    is   ^oorth. 


GENERAL   SUMMARY. 

"YTTE   are    very    slightly    changed 

From    the    semi-apes    who    ranged 

India's    prehistoric   clay ; 
Whoso   drew   the  longest   bow, 
Ran   his    brother   down,  you   know, 

As    we    run   men   down   to-day. 


"Dowb,"   the    first   of   all   his   race, 
Met   the    Mammoth   face   to   face 

On   the    lake    or   in    the    cave, 
Stole    the    steadiest   canoe, 
Ate   the    quarry    others    slew, 

Died  —  and   took   the   finest   grave. 
5 


Departmental  Ditties. 

When   tliey    scratched   the  reindeer -bone, 
Some    one    made   the   sketch   his  own, 

Filched   it   from   the    artist  —  then, 
Even    in    those    early    days, 
Won   a   simple    Viceroy's    praise 

Throuy'li    the    toil    of    other    men. 


Ere   they    hewed   the    Sphinx's    visage 
Favoritism    governed   kissage, 
Even   as    it   does    in   this    age. 


Who    shall   doubt   the    secret   hid 
Under   Cheops'    pyramid 
Was    that   the    contractor   did 

Cheops   out   of   several    millions  ? 
Or   that   Joseph's    sudden   rise 
To   Comptroller   of    Sup})lies 
Was    a   fraud   of    monstrous    size 

On   King   Pharaoh's    swart    Civilians  ? 


General  Summary. 

Thus,   the   artless   songs   I   sing 
Do   not   deal    Avith   anything 

New  or  never  said  before. 
As  it  was  in  the  beginning, 
Is   to-day   official    sinning, 

And   shall   be    for   evermore. 


Departmental  Ditties. 


ARMY  HEADQUARTERS. 

Old  is  the  song  that  I  sing  — 

Old  as  my  unpaid  bills  — 
Old  as  the  chicken  that  kitrmitgars  bring 

Men  at  dak  -  bungalows  —  old  as  the  Hills. 

A  HASUERUS  JENKINS  of  the  "Operatic  Own" 

Was    dowered    with   a   tenor   voice    of    super- 

Santley  tone. 

His  views  on  equitation  were,  perhaps,  a  trifle  queer; 

He    had    no    seat   worth    mentioning,   but    oh !    he 

had   an    ear. 

He   chibbed   his  wretched   company  a   dozen   times 

a   day, 
He   used   to   quit   his    charger  in   a   parabolic  way, 
His     method     of     saluting     was     the     joy     of     all 

beholders, 
But     Ahasuerus     Jenkins     had    a    head    upon    his 

shoulders. 


Anu_y  Headquarters.  g 

He    took    two    months    to    Simla   when    the    year 

was  at   the   spring, 
And   underneath   the  deodars  eternally   did   sing. 
He   warbled   like   a   hidbul,    but   particularly    at 
Cornelia  Agrippina   who   was    musical   and   fat. 

She    controlled   a   humble    husband,    who,    in    turn, 

controlled   a   Dept., 
Where   Cornelia   Agrippina's    human    singing -birds 

were   kept 
From    April    to  October  on  a  plump   retaining  fee, 
Supplied,    of    course,    per    mensem,    by    the    Indian 

Treasury. 
Cornelia  used  to  sing  with  him,  and  Jenkins  used 

to  play; 
He    praised    unblushingly    her    notes,    for    he    was 

false   as   they : 
So  when   the    winds    of   April   turned   the   budding 

roses   brown, 
Cornelia   told   her   husband  :  —  "  Tom,   you    mustn't 

send   him    down." 


lo  Dcpii  rime  lit  al  Ditties. 

They   haled   hiiu    from    his    regiment   which   didn't 

much    regret   him  ; 
They    found   for   liim    an    office -stool,    and   on   that 

stool   they  set   him, 
To    play    with    maps    and     catalogues     three    idle 

hours   a   day, 
And  draw  his   plump  retaining  fee  —  which  means 

his   double   pay. 

Now,  ever   after   dinner,   when  the  coffee-cups  are 

brought, 
Ahasuerus    waileth    o'er   the    grand    pianoforte ; 
And,     thanks     to     fair     Cornelia,     his     fame     hath 

waxen   great, 
And  Ahasuerus  Jenkins   is   a   power   in   the    State. 


study  of  an  Elevation,  in  Indian  Ink.  ii 


STUDY  OF  AN  ELEVATION,   IN  INDIAN  INK. 

This  ditty  is  a  string  of  lies. 

But  —  how  the  deuce  did  Gubbins  rise  ? 

■pOTIPHAR   GUBBINS,   C.  E., 

Stands    at   the    top    of   tlie    tree ; 
And    I    mnse    in   my  bed   on   the   reasons    that   led 
To    the    lioisting   of   Potiphar   G. 

Potiphar   Gubbins,    C.  E., 
Is    seven   years   junior   to    Me ; 
Each   bridge   tliat   he    makes    he   either   buckles   or 
breaks, 

And   his    work    is    as   rough    as   he. 

Potiphar   Gubbins,    C.  E., 
Is    coarse   as    a   chimpanzee ; 
And  I  can't  understand  why  you  gave  him  your  hand. 
Lovely    Mehitabel    Lee. 


12  Departmental  Ditties. 

Potiphar   Gubbins,   C.  E., 
Is   dear    to   the   Powers   that   Be ; 
For  They  bow  and  They  smile  in  an   affable   style 
Which   is    seldom    accorded   to   Me. 

Potiphar    Gubbins,   C.  E., 
Is    certain   as   certain   can   be 
Of  a  highly -paid  post  which  is  claimed  by  a  host 
Of   seniors  —  including    Me. 

Careless   and   lazy  is    he, 
Greatly  inferior   to    Me. 
What   is   the    spell   that   you    manage   so  well, 
Commonplace    Potiphar   G.  ? 

Lovely  Mehitabel   Lee, 
Let   me   inquire    of   thee. 
Should    I    have    riz    to    what   l^otiphar   is, 
Hadst   thou   been    mated   to   Me  ? 


A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office.  13 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  FOREIGN  OFFICE. 

This  is  the  reason  why  Rustum  Beg, 

Rtijah  of  Kolazai, 
Drinketh  the  "  simpkin  "  and  brandy  peg, 

Maketh  the  money  to  fly, 
Vexeth  a  Government,  tender  and  kind, 
Also— but  this  is  a  detail  — blind. 

"pUSTUM   BEG   of   Kolazai  —  slightly   backward 

native   state  — 
Lusted   for   a   C.    S.    I.,  —  so   began   to   sanitate. 
Built    a    Jail    and    Hospital  —  nearly    built    a   City 

drain  — 
Till   his   faithful   subjects   all    thought    their    ruler 

was   insane. 

Strange  departures  made  he  then  —  yea,  Depart- 
ments   stranger   still, 

Half  a  dozen  Englishmen  helped  the  Eajah  with 
a   will, 


14  Departmental  Ditties. 

Talked    of     noble    aims    and     liigh,     hinted    of    a 

future    line 
For  the  state  of  Kolazai,  on  a  strictly  Western  line. 

Rajah    Eustum     held    his     peace  ;    lowered    octroi 

dues   a   half ; 
Organized  a  State  Police ;   purified  the  Civil  Staff ; 
Settled  cess  and  tax  afresh  in  a  very  liberal  way ; 
Cut     temptations     of     the     flesh  —  also      cut      the 

Bukhshi's    pay ; 

Roused   his    Secretariat   to   a   fine    Mahratta   fury, 

By    a   Hookum    hinting   at   supervision    of   dasturl ; 

Turned  the  State  of  Kolazai  very  nearly  upside- 
down  ; 

When  the  end  of  May  was  nigh,  waited  his 
achievement   crown. 

Then  the  Birthday  Honors  came.  Sad  to  state 
and   sad    to   see, 

Stood  against  the  Rajah's  name  nothing  more 
than    C.   I.    E.f 


A  Legend  of  the  Foreign  Office.  15 

Things   were,    lively   for    a   week    in    the    State    of 

Kolazai. 
Even  now  the  people  speak  of  that  time  regretfully. 

How  he  disendowed  the  Jail  —  stopped  at  once 
the    City    drain ; 

Turned  to  beauty  fair  and  frail  —  got  his  senses 
back   again  ; 

Doubled  taxes,  cesses,  all ;  cleared  away  each  new- 
built   thana  ; 

Turned  the  two-lakh  Hospital  into  a  superb  Zenana; 

Heaped  upon  the  Bukhshi  Sahib  wealth  and 
honors    manifold ; 

Clad  himself  in  Eastern  garb  —  squeezed  his  peo- 
ple  as   of    old. 

Happy,  hai)py  Kolazai !  Never  more  will  Rustunx 
Beg 

Play  to  catch  the  Viceroy's  eye.  He  prefers  the 
"sinipkin  "    peg. 


1 6  Departmental   Ditties. 


THE   STORY  OF   URIAH. 

"Now  there  were  two  men  in  one  city;  the   one   rich  and 
the   other  poor." 

TACK   BAKRETT   went   to    Quetta 

Because    they   told    him   to. 
He   left   his   wife  at    Simla 

On   three  -  fourths   his    monthly    screw: 
Jack    Barrett   died   at   Quetta 

Ere   the    next   month's    pay   he    drew. 

Jack    Barrett    went    to    Quetta. 

He    didn't   understand 
The    reason   of    his    transfer 

From   the   pleasant    mountain  -  land : 
The   season    was    September, 

And    it   killed    him    out   of    hand. 

Jack   Barrett   went   to    Quetta, 
And   there    gave    up   the   ghost, 


The  Story  of  Uriah.  17 

Attempting   two   men's   duty 

In  that   very   healthy   post; 
And    ]\Irs.    Barrett   mourned    for   him 

Five    lively    months   at   most. 

Jack  Barrett's   bones   at   Quetta 

Enjoy   profound    repose  ; 
But   I    shouldn't    be    astonished 

If  noxv   his    spirit   knows 
The    reason   of    his    transfer 

From   the    Himalayan   snows. 

And,    when   the    Last   Great    Bugle   Call 

Adown    the    Hurnai    throbs, 
When   the   last   grim   joke    is   entered 

In   the   big   black    Book   of    Jobs, 
And    Quetta  graveyards   give  again 

Their   victims  to    the    air, 
I    shouldn't   like    to   be    the    man 

Who   sent   Jack    Barrett   there. 


Departmental  Ditties. 


THE   POST   THAT  FITTED. 

Though  tangled   and  twisted  the  course  of  true  love, 

This  ditty  explains 
No  tangle's  so  tangled  it  cannot  improve 

If  the  Lover  has  brains. 

TT^RE    the    steamer    bore    him    Eastward,    Sleary 

was   engaged    to    marry 
An   attractive   girl   at    Tunbridge,    whom   he   called 

''my   little    Carrie." 
Sleary's   pay    was    very    modest ;    Sleary    was    the 

other   way. 
Who     can    cook     a     two  -  plate     dinner     on    eight 

paltry    dibs   a   day  ? 

Long  he  pondered  o'er  the  question  in  his  scantly 

furnished    quarters  — 
Then    proposed  to  Minnie  Boffkin,  eldest  of  Judge 

Boffkin's    daufrhters. 


The'  Post  that  Fitted.  19 

Certainly  an  impecunious  Subaltern  was  not  a  catch, 
But  the  Boffkins  knew  that  Minnie  mightn't   make 
another  match. 

So   they   recognized  the  business,  and,  to  feed   and 

clothe   the    bride. 
Got  him  made  a   Something   Something  somewhere 

on   the    Bombay   side. 
Anyhow,    the    billet   carried    pay    enough    for    him 

to    marry  — 
As   the    artless    Sleary   put    it :  — "  Just    the    thing 

for   me    and    Carrie." 

Did   he,    therefore,   jilt   Miss    Boffkin  —  impulse   of 

a  baser   mind  ? 
No  !     He  started  epileptic  fits  of  an  appalling  kind. 
(Of    his    modus    operandi   only    this     much     I    could 

gather : — 
*' Pears'    shaving    sticks    will    give    you    little    taste 

and    lots    of   lather.") 


20  Depart nioital  Ditties. 

Frequently   in   jiublic   places   liis   affliction   used   to 

smite 
Sleary    'uith     distressing    vigor  —  alwa^-s     in    the 

Boff kins'    sight. 
Ere   a   week   was   over   Minnie   weepingly   returned 

his    ring, 
Told    him    his    '-'unhapp}'    weakness"   stopped    all 

thought   of   marrying. 

Sleary    bore     the    information    with    a     chastened 

holy   joy.  — 
Epileptic    fits   don't    matter  in   Political  employ,  — 
Wired    three    short    words    to    Carrie  —  took    his 

ticket,   packed   his    kit  — 
Bade    farewell     to    ]Minnie    Boffkin    in    one    last, 

long,    lingering    fit. 

Eour     weeks     later,     Carrie      Sleary     read  —  and 

laughed    until    she    wept  — 
Mrs.    Boffkiu's    warning    letter    on    the    "wretched 

epilept." 


The  Post  that  Fitted.  21 

Year    by    year,    in    pious    patience,    vengeful    Mrs. 

Boffkin   sits 
Waiting  for  the   Sleary  babies   to  develop    Sleary's 

fits. 


22  Departmental  Ditties. 


PUBLIC    WASTE. 

Walpolk  talks  of  "a  man  and  his  price." 

List  to  a  ditty  queer  — 
The  sale  of  a  Deputy  -  Acting- Vice - 

Resident  -  Engineer, 
Bought  like  a  bullock,  hoof  and  hide, 
By  the   Little  Tin  Gods  on  the  Mountain  Side. 

~DY   the    Laws    of    the    Family    Circle    'tis    writ- 
ten   in   letters  of   brass 
That   only   a   CJolonel   from    Chatham    can    manage 

the   Railways  of   State, 
Because     of     the    gold     on    his     breeks,    and    the 

subjects   wherein   he   must    pass ; 
Because   in   all   matters   that    deal    not   with    Sail- 

ways   his   knowledge   is   great. 

Now    Exeter    Battleby    Tring    had     labored     from 

boyhood   to   eld 
On    the    Lines   of    the    East    and    the   West,   and 

eke   of   the   North   and   South ; 


Public  Waste.  23 

Many  Lines  had  lie  built  and  surveyed  —  impor- 
tant   the    posts    which   he    held ; 

And  the  Lords  of  the  Iron  Horse  were  dumb 
when    he    opened    his    mouth. 

Black    as    the    raven    his    garb,    and    his    heresies 

jettier   still  — 
Hinting  that   Railways   required   lifetimes  of  study 

and   knowledge  ; 
Never    clanked    sword    by    his    side  —  Vauban    he 

knew   not,    nor   drill  — 
Nor   was    his    name    on    the    list   of    the    men   who 

had   passed   through   the    "  College." 

Wherefore     the     Little      Tin     Gods     harried     their 

little   tin   souls. 
Seeing    he    came    not    from    Chatham,    jingled    no 

spurs   at    his    heels, 
Knowing   that,    nevertheless,   was    he    first    on    the 

Government   rolls 
For    the    billet    of   "  Railway   Instructor    to    Little 

Tin    Gods    on    Wheels." 


2  4  Departmental  Ditties. 

Letters  not   seldom    they    wrote   him,   "having    the 

honor   to   state," 
It    would    be    better   for   all    men    if    he    were    laid 

on    the    shelf  : 
Much    would    accrue    to    his    bank-book,    and     he 

consented   to   wait 
Until    the    Little    Tin   Gods   built    liim  a  berth   for 

himself. 

"  Special,  well    paid,  and   exempt   from   the  Law  of 

the    Fifty   and    Five, 
Even     to     Ninety    and     Nine "  —  these    were    the 

terms   of   the    pact : 
Thus    did   the    Little    Tin    Gods    (long    may    Their 

Highnesses    thrive  !) 
Silence     his     mouth     with     rupees,     keeping     their 

Circle    intact ; 

Appointing  a  Colonel  from  Chatham  who  man- 
aged   the    Bhamo    State    Line, 

(The  which  was  one  mile  and  one  furlong  —  a 
guaranteed   twenty -inch  gauge). 


Public  IVdsfe.  25 

So    Exeter    Battleby    Tring    consented     liis    claims 

to    resign, 
And    died,    on     four    thousand    a    month,    in    the 

ninetieth   year   of   his   age. 


26  Departmental  Ditties. 


DELILAH. 

We  have  another  Viceroy  now,   those  days  are  dead  and  done, 
Of  Delilah   Aberyswith  and   depraved   Ulysses  Gunne. 

T~\ELILAH  Aberyswith  was  a  lady  —  not  too 
young  — 

With  a  perfect  taste  in  dresses,  and  a  badly- 
bitted  tongue, 

With  a  thirst  for  information,  and  a  greater 
thirst    for    praise. 

And  a  little  house  in  Simla,  in  the  Prehistoric 
Days. 

By  reason  of  her  marriage  to  a  gentleman  in  power, 
Delilah    was    acquainted    with    the    gossip    of    the 

hour ; 
And    many   little    secrets,    of    a    half- official    kind. 
Were   whispered    to    Delilah,    and    she    bore    them 

all   in   mind. 


Delilah.  27 

She  patronized  extensively  a  man,  Ulysses   Gunne, 
Whose    mode    of    earning    money    was    a    low   and 

shameful    one. 
He    wrote    for   divers    papers,  which,    as   everybody 

knows, 
Is   worse   than    serving   in    a    shop    or    scaring    off 

the  crows. 

He  praised  her  "  queenly  beauty "  first ;  and, 
later   on,    he   hinted 

At  the  "  vastness  of  her  intellect "  with  compli- 
ment  unstinted. 

He  went  with  her  a -riding,  and  his  love  for  her 
was  such 

That  he  lent  her  all  his  horses,  and  —  she  galled 
them   very  much. 

One  day.  They  brewed  a  secret  of  a  fine  financial 

sort ; 
It    related    to    Appointments,    to    a    Man    and    a 

Eeport. 


28  Departmental  Ditties. 

'Twas     almost     worth     the     keeping     (only     seven 

people   knew   it), 
And     Gunne     rose     up     to     seek     the     truth     and 

patiently   ensue   it. 

It  was  a  Viceroy's   Secret,   but  —  perhaps  the  wine 

was    red  — 
Perhaps    an    Aged    Councillor    had    lost    his    aged 

head  — 
Perhaps     Delilah's     eyes    were     bright  —  Delilah's 

whispers   SAveet  — 
The   Aged    Member   told    her   what   'twere   treason 

to   repeat. 

Ulysses   went   a -riding,   and    they    talked    of    love 

and   flowers ; 
Ulysses  went   a -calling,  and   he   called   for  several 

hours ; 
Ulysses  Avent   a -waltzing,   and  Delilah   helped   him 

dance  — 
Ulysses  let  the  waltzes  go,  and  waited  for  his  chance. 


Delilah.  29 

The    summer    sun    was    setting,    and    the    summer 

air  was   still, 
The     couple    went     a -walking     in    the     shade     of 

Summer   Hill, 
The    wasteful     sunset    faded    out    in    turkis  -  green 

and   gold, 
Ulysses   pleaded   softly,   and  .  .  .  that   bad   Delilah 

told! 

Next  morn,  a  startled  Empire  learnt  the  all- 
important   news ; 

Kext  week,  the  Aged  Councillor  was  shaking  in 
his    shoes ; 

Next  month,  I  met  Delilah,  and  she  did  not 
show   the   least 

Hesitation  in  affirming  that  Ulysses  was  a  "beast." 

We    have    another    Viceroy    now,    those    days    are 

dead   and   done, 
Of    Delilah    Aberyswith    and    most    mean    Ulysses 

Gunne ! 


30  Departmental  Ditties. 


WHAT  HAPPENED. 

TTUREEE   CHUNDER   MOOKERJEE,  pride  of 

Bow   Bazar, 
Owner   of   a  native    press,    "Barrishter-at-Lar," 
Waited   on  the   Government  with   a   claim  to  wear 
Sabres   by   the   bucketful,    rifles   by   the    pair. 

Then    the    Indian    Government    Avinked    a    wicked 

wink. 
Said   to    Chunder   Mookerjee :    "  Stick    to    pen   and 

ink, 
They   are    safer   implements ;    but,    if   you   insist. 
We   will  let  you  carry  arms  wheresoe'er  you  list." 

Hurree  Chunder  Mookerjee  sought  the  gunsmith  and 
Bought    the    tuber    of     Lancaster,    Ballard,    Dean, 
and   Bland, 


IVhaf  Happened.  31 

Bought  a  shiny  bowie-knife,   bought   a  town -made 

sword, 
Jingled  like  a  carriage -horse  when  he  went  abroad. 

But     the     Indian     Government,     always     keen     to 

please. 
Also   gave   permission   to   horrid   men  like    these  — 
Yar    IMahommed    Yusufzai,    down    to   kill    or   steal, 
Chimbu    Singh   from    Bikaneer,    Tantia   the    Bhil. 

Killar    Khan    the    Marri    chief,    Jowar    Singh    the 

Sikh, 
Nubbee    Baksh    Punjabi   Jat,    Abdul   Huq   Rafiq  — 
He    was   a   Wahabi ;    last,    little    Boh   Hla-oo 
Took   advantage   of   the   act  —  took    a   Snider   too. 

They     were      unenlightened     men,     Ballard      knew 

them    not. 
They   procured    their   swords    and    guns   chiefly    on 

the   spot. 


32  Departmental  Ditties. 

And  the  lore  of  centuries,  plus  a  hundred  fights, 
Made  them  slow  to  disregard  one  another's  rights. 

With   a   unanimity   dear   to    patriot    hearts 

All    those    hairy  gentlemen    out   of  foreign   parts 

Said  :  "  The    good    old   days    arc   back  —  let   us   go 

to   war  ! " 
Swaggered    down     the    Grand     Trunk     Koad,    into 

Bow   Bazar. 

Nubbee  Baksh  Punjabi  Jat  found  a  hide-bound  flail, 
Chimbu  Singh  from  Bikaneer  oiled  his  Tonk  jezail, 
Yar   Mahommed    Yusufzai    spat   and    grinned   with 

glee 
As  he  ground  the    butcher -knife  of   the   Khyberee. 

Jowar   Singh   the    Sikh    procured   sabre,   quoit,  and 

mace, 
Abdul    Huq,    Wahabi,    took    the    dagger    from    its 

place, 


IVbat  Happened.  33 

While   ainid   the   jungle -grass  danced   and   grinned 

and   jabbered 
Little     Boh    Hla-oo    and    cleared     the     dah- blade 

from   the   scabbard. 

"What    became    of    Mookerjee  ?     Soothly,    who   can 

say? 
Yar   jVIahommed   only    grins   in   a   nasty   way, 
Jowar      Singh      is      reticent,     Chimbu      Singh     is 

mute. 
But    the    belts    of     them    all     simply    bulge    with 

loot. 

What   became    of   Ballard's    guns  ?     Afghans    black 

and  grubby 
Sell    them    for   their   silver   weight   to   the    men   of 

Pubbi ; 
And    the    shiny    bowie-knife    and    the   town -made 

sword   are 
Hanging  in  a  Marri   camp   just   across   the  Border. 


34  DepartmenUil  Ditties. 

AN'liat    became    of    Mookerjee  ?      Ask     Mahoiumed 

Yar 
Prodding   Siva's   sacred  bull   down  the    Bow  Bazar. 
Speak    to    placid    Nubbee    Baksh  —  question    land 

and   sea  — 
Ask    the    Indian   Congress    men  —  only    don't   ask 

lue  ! 


Pi]ik  Dominoes.  35 


FLWi    DOMINOES. 

"They  are  fools  wlio  kiss  and  tell" 
Wisely  has  the  poet  sung. 
Mau  may  hold  all  sorts  of  posts 
If  he'll  only  hold  his  tongue. 

XENNY   and   j\Ie    were    engaged,   you   see, 

On   the   eve   of   the  Fancy  Ball; 
So   a   kiss   or   two   was    nothing   to   you 
Or   any  one   else  at   all. 

Jenny   would   go   in   a   domino  — 

Pretty    and   pink   but   Avarm  ; 
While   I   attended,    clad   in   a   splendid 

Austrian   uniform. 

Now  we   had   arranged,   through  notes   exchanged 

Early  that   afternoon, 
At   Number   Four   to    waltz    no   more, 

But   to   sit    in   the   dusk   and   spoon. 


36  Depa}t mental  Ditties. 

(I  wish   you   to   see   that   Jenny   and   Me 
Had   barely   exchanged   our  troth ; 

So   a   kiss   or   two    was    strictly   due 
By,    from,    and   between    us   both.) 

When   Three  was    over,    an   eager  lover, 

I   fled    to    the    gloom    outside ; 
And   a   Domino   came   out   also 

Whom    I    took    for   my    future   bride. 

That   is   to   say,    in   a   casual   way, 

I    slipped   my    arm    around  her; 
With   a   kiss   or   two    (which    is    nothing   to   you). 

And   ready   to   kiss    I   found    her. 

She   turned   her  head,    and   the    name  she   said 

Was   certainly    not    my    own ; 
But   ere    I   could    speak,    with   a   smothered   shriek 

She   fled   and   left   me   alone. 


Pink   Dominoes.  37 

Then   Jenny   came,    and   I    saw  with   shame 

She'd   doffed   her   domino ; 
And   I   had   embraced   an   alien    waist  — 

But    I    did  not   tell    her   so. 

Next   morn    T    knew   that   there    were   two 

Dominoes    pink,    and    one 
Had   cloaked   the   spouse   of    Sir   Julian   Vouse, 

Our   big   political    gun. 

Sir   J.    was   old,    and   her   hair   was    gold, 

And   her    eye   was  a   blue    cerulean ; 
And    the    name    she    said    when    she    turned    her 
head 

Was   not   in   the    least   like    ''Julian." 

Now   wasn't   it   nice,    when    want   of   pice 

Forbade    us   twain    to    marry, 
That   old    Sir   J.,    in    the    kindest    way. 

Made   me   his    Secret  a  r7'y  ? 


38  Departmental  Ditties. 


THE  MAN   WHO    COULD    WRITE. 

Shun  — shun  the  Bowl!    That  fatal,  facile  drink 
Has  ruined  many  geese  who  dipped  their  quills  in't, 

Bribe,  murder,  marry,  but  steer  clear  of  Ink 
Save  when  you  write  receipts  for  paid-up  bills  in't. 

There  may  be  silver  in  the  "blue-black"  —  all 

I  know  of  is  the  iron  and  the  gull. 

"pOANERGES  BLITZEN,  servant  of  the  Queen, 
Is    a   dismal    failure — is  a  Might -have -been. 
In   a  luckless    moment   he    discovered   men 
Rise   to   high    position    through   a   ready   pen. 

Boanerges  Blitzen    argued,    therefore:    "I 
With   the    selfsame    weapon    can    attain    as    high." 
Only  he   did  not  possess,  when  he   made  the  trial, 
Wicked   wit   of   C-lv-n,    irony    of    L 1. 

(Men   who   spar    with    Government    need,    to   back 

their   blows, 
Something   more   than   ordinary  journalistic   prose.) 


The  Man  -who  could  Write.  39 

Never  young   Civilian's    prospects    were   so    bright, 
Till   ail    Indian    paper   found    that   he    could  write : 
Never   young   Civilian's   prospects  were   so   dark, 
When  the  wretched  Blitzeu  wrote  to  make  his  mark. 

Certainly  he  scored  it,  bold  and  black  and  firm, 
In  that  Indian  paper  —  made  his  seniors  squirm. 
Quoted  office  scandals,  wrote  the  tactless  truth  — 
Was   there   ever   known  a  more   misguided  youth  ? 

When  the  Rag  he  wrote  for  praised  his  plucky  game, 
Boanerges    Blitzen   felt   that   this    was   Fame : 
When    the    men    he    wrote    of    shook    their    heads 

and   swore, 
Boanerges    Blitzen    only    wrote   the    more. 

Posed   as    Young    Ithuriel,    resolute   and   grim. 
Till    he    found    promotion    didn't    come    to    him ; 
Till  he  found  that  reprimands  weekly  were  his  lot, 
Ami    his    many    Districts    curiously    hot. 


40  Departmental  Ditties. 

Till  he   found  his   furlough   strangely  hard  to  win, 

Boanerges   Blitzen   didn't   care   a   pin : 

Then     it     seemed      to     dawn     on     him     something 

wasn't   right  — 
Boanerges   Blitzen    put   it   down   to    "  spite." 

Languished   in   a   District   desolate   and  dry ; 
Watched    the    Local    Government    yearly    pass   him 

by; 
Wondered    where    the    hitch   was ;    called    it    most 
unfair. 

That  was    seven  years  ago  —  and  he   still   is  there. 


Municipal.  41 


MUNICIPAL. 

"  Why  is  my  District  deatli  -  rate  low  ?  " 

Said  Binks  of  Hezabad. 
"Wells,  drains,  and  sewage  -  outfalls  are 

My  own  peculiar  fad. 
I  learnt  a  lesson  once.    It  ran 
"Thus,"  quoth  that  most  veracious  man:  — 

"TT  was  an  August  evening,  and,  in  snowy 
garments    clad, 

I  paid  a  round  of  visits  in  the  lines  of  Heza- 
bad; 

When,  presently,  my  Waler  saw,  and  did  not 
like   at   all, 

A  Commissariat  elephant  careering  down  the  Mall. 

I    couldn't    see    the    driver,   and    across    my   mind 

it   rushed 
That    that     Commissariat     elephant    had     suddenly 

gone    viusth. 


42  Departmental  Ditties. 

I   didn't   care   to    meet    him,   and    I    couldn't   well 

get   down, 
So   I    let   the    Waler   have    it,    and   we   headed   for 

the   town. 

The  buggy  was  a  new  one,  and,  praise  Dykes,  it 
stood   the  strain. 

Till  the  Waler  jumped  a  bullock  just  above  the 
City    Drain  ; 

And  the  next  that  I  remember  was  a  hurricane 
of   squeals. 

And  the  creature  making  toothpicks  of  my  five- 
foot   patent   wheels. 

He  seemed  to  want  the  owner,  so  I  fled,  dis- 
traught  with   fear, 

To  the  Main  Drain  sewage -outfall  while  he 
snorted   in   my   ear  — 

Reached  the  four -foot  drain -head  safely,  and,  in 
darkness    and   despaii', 

Felt  the  brute's  proboscis  fingering  my  terror, 
stiffened   hair. 


Municipal.  43 

Heard  it  trumpet  on  iny  shoulder  —  tried  to 
crawl   a  little   higher  — 

Fouud  the  IMaiii  Drain  selvage  -  outfall  blocked, 
some    eight   feet   up,    with    mire ; 

And,  for  twenty  reeking  minutes,  Sir,  my  very 
marrow   froze, 

While  the  trunk  Avas  feeling  blindly  for  a  pur- 
chase  on    my   toes  ! 

It    missed    me    by    a    fraction,   but    my    hair    was 

turning   gray 
Before    they   called    the    drivers    up    and    dragged 

the   brute   away. 
Then    I    sought    the    City    Elders,    and    my    words 

were    very   plain. 
They  flushed   that   four  -  foot   drain  -  head,    and  —  it 

never   choked   again. 

You    may    hold    with    surf  ace  -  drainage,    and    the 

sun  -  for -  garbage   cure, 
Till   you've   been   a   periwinkle   shrinking  coyly  up 

a  sewer. 


44  Departmental  Ditties. 

I  believe    in   well  -  flushed   culverts  .... 

This    is    Avhy    the    death  -  rate's    small ; 
And,     if     you     don't     believe     me,     get     sJiitcarred 
yourself.     That's   all. 


A  Code  of  Morals.  45 


A    CODE   OF  MORALS. 

Lest  you  should  think  this  story  true, 
I  merely  mention  I 
Evolved  it  lately.    'Tis  a  most 
Unmitigated  misstatement. 

"VTOW    Jones    had    left    his    new -wed    bride    to 

keep   his    house    in   order, 
And   hied   away   to   the    Hurrum    Hills    above    the 

Afghan   border, 
To   sit   on    a   rock   with    a   heliogra^jh ;   but   ere   he 

left   he   taught 
His  wife    the   working   of    the   Code   that   sets   the 

miles   at   naught. 

And    Love    had    made    him    very   sage,   as    Nature 

made   her   fair; 
So   Cupid   and    Apollo    linked,   yer   heliograph,    the 

pair. 


46  Departmental  Ditties. 

At    dawn,    across    the    Hurrura    Hills,    he    flashed 

her   counsel    wise  — 
At  e'en,  the  dying  sunset  bore  her  husband's  homilies. 

He  warned  her  'gainst  seductive  youths   in  scarlet 

clad   and   gold. 
As    much    as    'gainst    the    blandishments    paternal 

of   the    old ; 
But    kept    his    gravest    warnings    for    (hereby   the 

ditty   hangs) 
That    snowy -haired    Lothario,    Lieutenant  -  General 

Bangs. 

'Twas    General    Bangs,    with    Aide    and   Staff,    that 

tittnpped   on   the   way. 
When    they  beheld   a   heliograph   tempestuously   at 

P^ay ; 
They   thought   of    Border    risings,    and    of    stations 

sacked   and   burnt  — 
So  stopped   to   take   the    message   down  —  and   this 

is    what   they    learnt :  — 


A  Code  of  Morals.  47 

"Dash    (lot    dot,    dot,    dot    dash,    dot    dash    dot" 

twice.     The   General   swore. 
''Was    ever    General    Officer    addressed    as    'dear' 

before  ? 
*"My    Love,'     i'     faith!     'My     Duck,'     Gadzooks ! 

'  My   darling   popsy  -  wop  ! ' 
Spirit    of    great    Lord    Wolseley,    -who    is    on    that 

mountain    top  ?  " 

The  artless  Aide  -  de  -  camp  was  mute  ;  the  gi"lded 
Staff   were   still, 

As,  dumb  with  pent-up  mirth,  tliey  hooked  that 
message   from    the    hill  ; 

For,  clear  as  summer's  lightning  flare,  tlie  hus- 
band's   warning    ran  :  — 

"Don't  dance  or  ride  with  General  Bangs  —  a 
most   immoral   man." 

(At    dawn,    across    the     Ihirrum     Hills,    he    flashed 

her   counsel    wise  — 
But,     howsoever     Love     lie     blind,     the     world     at 

large    hath    eyes.) 


48  Departmental  Ditties. 

With    damnatory   dot    and    dash    he    heliographed 

his    wife 
Some  interesting  details  of  the  General's  private  life. 

The  artless  Aide-de-camp  was  mute;  the  shin- 
ing  Staff   were   still, 

And  red  and  ever  redder  grew  the  General's 
shaven   gill. 

And  this  is  what  he  said  at  last  (his  feelings 
matter   not)  :  — 

"  I  think  we've  tapped  a  private  line.  Hi  ! 
Threes   about   there  !     Trot !  " 

All  honor  unto  Bangs,  for  ne'er  did  Jones  there- 
after  know 

By   word   or   act  official    who    read   off   that   helio. ; 

But  the  tale  is  on  the  Frontier,  and  from  Michni 
to  ^loo\tan 

They  know  the  worthy  General  as  "  that  most 
immoral    man." 


The  Last  Department.  49 


THE  LAST  DEPARTMENT. 

Twelve  hundred  million  men  are  spread 

About  this  Earth,  and  I  and  You 
Wonder,  when  You  and  I  are  dead, 

What  will  those  luckless  millions  do  ? 

"  IVrONE     whole     or     clean,"    we    cry,    "  or    free 

from   stain 
Of   favor."     Wait   awliile,    till   we   attain 

The  Last  Department,  where  nor  fraud  nor  fools, 
Nor   grade   nor   greed,    shall    trouble   us   again. 

Fear,    Favor,    or   Affection  —  what   are   these 
To   the   grim    Head    who   claims  our   services  ? 

I   never   knew    a  wife   or   interest   yet 
Delay  that  paldca   step,   miscalled   "  decease  ;  " 

When   leave,   long   over -due,    none   can   deny; 
When   idleness    of   all    Eternity 

Becomes    our   furlough,    and    the    marigold 
Our   thriftless,    bullion -minting   Treasury. 


50  Departmental  Ditties. 

Transferred   to   the    Eternal    Settlement, 
Each    in   his    strait,    wood -scan  tied   office    pent, 
No    longer   Brown    reverses    Smith's  appeals, 
Or   Jones    records    his    Minute    of    Dissent. 

And   One,   long   since   a   pillar   of   the   Court, 
As   mud   between    the   beams   thereof  is   wrought ; 
And    One    who    wrote    on     phosphates    for    the 
crops 
Is    subject-matter   of   his    own    Report. 

(These   be   the   glorious   ends   whereto   we   pass  — 
Let   Him    who   Is,    go   call   on    Him   who    Was ; 

And    He    shall   see   the   mallie   steals    the    slab 
For   currie -grinder,    and    for   goats    the    grass.) 

A   breath   of   wind,    a   Border  bullet's   flight 
A   draught   of   water,   or   a   horse's    fright  — 

The    droning    of    tlie    fat    Stierlstadar 
Ceases,   the    punkah   stops,   and   falls    the    night 


The  Last  Department.  51 

For   yoii   or   Me.     Do    those    who   live    decline 
The  step   that   offers,    or   their   work    resign  ? 

Trust   me,    To-day's    Most   Indispensables, 
Five    hundred   men   can   take    your   place    or   mine. 


BARRACK-ROOM   BALLADS. 


DANNY  DEEVER. 

"Ty^HAT    are    the    bugles    blowiu'    for?"    said 

Files  -  on  -  Parade. 
"To   turn    you    out,    to    turn   you   out,"    the    Color- 

•  Sergeant   said. 
"  \Miat    makes    you    look    so    white,   so    white  ? " 

said    Files  -  on  -  Parade. 
"I'm   dreadin'   what  I've   got  to   watch,"   the   Color- 
Sergeant   said. 

For  they're   hangin'  Danny   Deever,  you   can 

'ear   the   Dead    jNIarch    play, 
The    regiment's    in    'ollow    square  —  they're 

hangin'    him    to-day; 
They've    taken    of    his     ])uttons    off    an'    cut 

his    stripes '  away. 
An'    they're    hangin'    Danny    Deever    in    the 
mornin'. 

55 


56  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

"  What   makes    the   rear  -  rank    breathe    so    'ard  ? " 

said   Files  -  on  -  Parade. 
''It's     bitter     cold,     it's    bitter     cold,"     the    Color- 
Sergeant   said. 
"  What   makes    that  front  -  rank    man    fall    down  ?  " 

says   Files  -  on  -  Parade. 
"  A    touch    of    sun,    a   touch    of    sun,"   the    Color- 
Sergeant   said. 
They    are    hangin'    Danny    Deever,    they   are 

marchin'  of    'im    round, 
They  'ave  'alted  Danny   Deever  by  'is  coffin 

on   the    ground ; 
An'    'e'll    swing    in     'arf    a    minute    for    a 

sneakin',    shootin'    hound  — 
O    they're    hangin'     Danny     Deever     in     the 
mornin' ! 

"'Is   cot  was    right -'and    cot   to  mine,"    said  Files- 

on  -  Parade. 
"  'E's    sleepin'    out    an'    far    to-night,"    the    Color- 

Serg^eant   said. 


Danny  Deever.  57 

"I've  drunk  'is  beer  a  score  o'  times,"  said  Files - 

on  -  Parade. 
"  'E's     drinkin'      bitter     beer    alone,"     the     Color- 
Sergeant   said. 

They    are   hangin'   Danny    Deever,   you   must 

mark    'im   to   'is    place, 
For   'e    shot   a   comrade    sleepin'  —  you    must 

look   'im   in   the    face ; 
Nine    'undred    of    'is     county    an'    the    regi- 
ment's   disgrace, 
While   they're   hangin'  Danny  Deever  in  the 
mornin'. 

"  What's  that  so  black  agin  the  sun  ? "  said  Files- 
on  -  Parade. 

"It's  Danny  fightin'  'ard  for  life,"  the  Color- 
Sergeant    said. 

"  What's  that  that  whimpers  over'ead  ? "  said 
Files  -  on  -  Parade. 

"'  It's  Danny's  soul  that's  i^assin'  now,"  the  Color- 
Sergeant   said. 


53  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

For  they're  done  with  Danny  Deever,  you 
can    'ear  the    quickstep   phiy, 

The  regiment's  in  column,  an'  they're 
marchin'   t;s    away ; 

Ho !  the  young  recruits  are  shakin',  an' 
they'll    Avant   their   beer   to-day, 

After  hangin'  Danny  Deever  in  the  mornin'. 


"  Tomiiiy."  59 


♦'  TOMMY." 

~r   WEXT    into   a  public -'ouse    to    get    a   pint   o' 

beer, 
The    publican   'e   up    an'    sez,    "  We    serve    no   red- 
coats   here." 
The    girls    be'ind    the    bar    tliey   laughed    an'    gig- 
gled  fit   to    die, 
I   outs    into  the  street  again,  an'   to   myself   sez   I : 
0    it's    Tommy    this,  an'    Tommy    that,    an' 

"  Tommy    go    away  ;  " 
But    it's   "  Thank  you.  Mister  Atkins,"  Avhen 

the   band    begins    to    play. 
The    band    begins     to     play,    my    boys,     the 

band   begins   to   play, 
0   it's    "Thank    you,   Mister   Atkins,"   when 
the   band   begins   to   play. 


6o  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

I    went   into   a   theatre    as   sober   as   could    be, 
They    give    a    drunk    civilian     room,      but     'adn't 

none    for   me ; 
They  sent  me  to  the  gallery  or  round  the  music-'alls, 
But    when    it    comes    to    fightin',     Lord !    they '  11 
shove    me    in    the    stalls. 

For   it's    Tommy   this,    an'   Tommy    that,  an' 

"  Tommy   wait   outside  ; " 
But    it's    ''Special   train    for   Atkins,"   when 

the   trooper's    on   the    tide, 
The   troopship's   on   the   tide,    my   boys,   etc. 

O  makin'  mock  o'  uniforms  that  guard  you  while 
you   sleep 

Is  cheaper  than  them  uniforms,  an'  they're  star- 
vation   cheap  ; 

An'  hustlin'  drunken  sodgers  when  they're  goin' 
large   a   bit 

Is  five  times  better  business  than  paradin'  in 
full    kit. 


"  Tommy."  6i 

Then  it's  Tommy  tliis,  an'  Tommy  that, 
an'    "  Tommy,    'ow's    yer   soul  ?  " 

But  it's  '*  Thin  red  line  of  'eroes "  when 
the   drums   begin   to   roll, 

The    drums    begin    to   roll,    my   boys,    etc. 

We   aren't   no    thin    red    'eroes,    nor   we   aren't   no 

blackguards   too. 
But   single   men  in  barricks,   most  remarkable  like 

you  ; 
An'     if     sometimes    our    conduck     isn't     all     your 

fancy   paints, 
Why,    single    men    in    barricks     don't     grow    into 
plaster   saints. 

While    it's    Tommy    this,    an'    Tommy   that, 

an'    "Tommy    fall    be'ind  ;  " 
But     it's    '' Please    to    walk    in    front,     sir," 

when   there's   trouble    in   the    wind, 
There's     trouble     in     the     wind,     my     boys, 
etc. 


62  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

You   talk   o'   better   food    for    us,    an'    schools,    an' 

fires,    an'    all : 
We'll    wait     for     extry     rations     if    you    treat    us 

rational. 
Don't  mess   about   the    cook-room   slops,   but  prove 

it   to   our    face 
The    Widow's     uniform     is     not   the    soldier  -  man's 
disgrace. 

For    it's     Tommy     this,    an'     Tommy     that, 

an'    "  Chuck    him   out,    the    brute  !  " 
But     it's    ''Saviour    of     'is    country"    when 

the    guns    begin    to    shoot ; 
An'     it's     Tommy    this,     an'     Tommy    that, 

an'    anything   you   please ; 
An'    Tommy    ain't     a     bloomin'     fool  —  you 
bet   that   Tommy   sees ! 


"  f^^i\.i.y-^^'\.iy-"  63 


(Soudan  Expeditionary  Force.') 

"VTTE'VE  fought  with  many  men  acrost  the  seas, 
An'  some  of  'em  was  brave  an'  some  was  not : 
Tlie   Paythan    an'    the    Zuki   an'    Burmese ; 

But   the    Fuzzy    was    the    finest    o'   the    lot. 
We    never   got   a   ha'portli's    change    of    'im : 

'E  squatted   in  the    scrub    an'    'ocked    our  'orses, 
'E   cut   our   sentries    up    at    SuaA-///;, 

An'  'e  played  the  cat  an'  banjo  with  our  forces. 
So    'ore's     to     you,     Fuzzy-Wuzzy,     at     your 

'ome    in   the    Sowdan ; 
You're     a    pore     benighted     'eathen     but     a 

first-class   fightin'    man; 
We    gives    you    your    certifikit,    an'    if    you 

want   it    signed 
We'll    come    an'     'ave     a    romp     with    you 
Avhenever   you're    inclined. 


64  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

We   took   our   ehanst   among   the    Kyber   'ills, 

The    Boers   knocked   ns    silly   at   a   mile, 
The    Burman    guv   us    Irriwaddy   chills. 

An'    a    Zulu    impi   dished    us   up    in    style: 
But   all    we    ever    got    from    such   as    they 

Was   pop   to    what   the    Fuzzy   made   us  swaller; 
We    'eld    our   blooniin'    own,    the    papers    say. 

But     man     for     man     the      Fuzzy     knocked     us 
'oiler. 
Then    'ere's    to    you,    Fuzzy -Wuzzy,    an'    the 

missis    and   the   kid ; 
Our  orders   was  to   break  you,   an'   of  course 

we    went   an'    did. 
We     sloshed     you     with     Martinis,    an'     it 

wasn't   'ardly    fair; 
But   for   all   the   odds  agin  you.  Fuzzy -Wuz, 
you   bruk    the    square. 

'  E    'asn't    got    no    papers    of    'is    own, 
'E   'asn't   got   no    medals   nor   rewards, 


' '  Fiii^y-lVti^^y."  65 

So   we   must   certify  the   skill   'e's  shown 

In   iisin'    of   'is    long    two-'ancled    swords: 
When    'e's    'oppin'    in    an'    out    among    the    bush 

AVith   'is   coffin -'eaded   shield  an'   shovel  -  spear, 
A   'appy    day   with    Fuzzy    on   the    rush 
Will   last   a   'ealthy    Tommy    for   a   year. 

So    'ere's    to    you,     Fuzzy  -  Wuzzy,    an'    your 

friends    which   is   no    more, 
If     we     'adn't     lost     some      messmates     we 

would   'elp   you   to    deplore ; 
But   give    an'    take's    the    gospel,    an'    we'll 

call   the   bargain   fair, 
For     if    you    'ave    lost    more    than    us,    you 
crumpled   up   the    square ! 

'E   rushes   at   the    smoke    when    we    let    drive, 
An',     before      we      know,     'e's      'ackin'     at      our 
'ead ; 

'E's    all    'ot   sand    an'    ginger   when    alive, 

An'    'e's    generally    shamniin'    when    'e's    dead. 


66  Barrack-Rootn  Ballads. 

'E's    a   daisy,    'e's    a   ducky,    'e's    a   Iambi 

'E's    a   iiijia- rubber   idiot   on   the    spree, 
'E's    the    on'y    thing   that    doesn't   care    a  damn 
For   the    Eegiment   o'    British   Infantree. 

So     'ere's     to     you,     Fuzzy -Wuzzy,     at   your 

'ome    in    tlie    Sowdan ; 
You're    a    pore      beniglited    'eathen    but     a 

first -chiss    figlitin'    man; 
An'   'ere's    to   you.    Fuzzy  -  Wuzzy,   with  your 

'ayrick    'ead   of    'air  — 
You    big    black    boundin'     beggar  —  for    you 
bruk   a   British    square. 


Oo)its !  67 


•  00  NTS! 

(NortJiern  India    Trait  sport   Traiii.) 

"TTTOT    makes    tlie    soldier's    'eart    to    peuk,    wot 

makes    'im   to    pers2:)ire  ? 
It   isn't   standi  u'    up   to    charge    or    lyin'    down   to 

fire ; 
But    it's    everlastin'    waitin'    on    a   everlastin'    lioad 
For   the    commissariat    camel    an'    'is    commissariat 
load. 

0    the    oont,^    0    the    oont,    0    the    commissa- 
riat  oont ! 
With  'is    silly   neck    a -bobbin'   like   a  basket 

full    o'    snakes; 
We    packs    'im    like    a   idol,   an'    you    ought 

to   'ear   'im    grunt, 
An'   when  we  gets  'im  loaded  up  'is  blessed 
girth  -  rope  breaks. 

"  Camel:  oo   is  pronouncod   like   u  in   "t)ull,"  but   by  Mr.  Alkiiis  to 
rhyme  with  "  front." 


68  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

Wot    makes    the  rear -guard   swear    so    'ard    when 

night   is    drorin'  in, 
An'  every  native  follower  is   shiverin'  for  'is  skin  ? 
It   ain't    the    chanst  o'    bein'    rushed    by    Faythans 

frum    the   'ills, 
It's  the    commissariat   camel  puttin'    on   'is   blessed 
frills ! 

0    the    oont,    0   the    oont,   0    the    hairy   scary 

oont ! 
A-trippin'   over   tent -ropes   when   we've    got 

the  night  alarm  ; 
We    socks    'im     with    a    stretcher  -  pole    an' 

'eads   'im    off   in    front, 
An'    when    we've    saved   'is   bloomin'  life   'e 
chaws    our   bloomin'    arm. 

The  'orse  'e  knows   above  a  bit,  the  bullock's  but 

a   fool, 
The    elephant's   a    gentleman,    the    baggage  -  mule's 

a   mule ; 


Oonts !  69 

But  the  commissariat   cam  -  u  -  el,   when   all   is   said 

an'   done, 
'E's  a  devil  an'  a  ostrich  an'  a  orphan -child  in  one. 
0  the  oont,  0  the  oont,  0  the  Gawd -forsaken 
oont ! 

The     'umpy  -  lumpy     'ummin'  -  bird     a  -  singin' 

where   'e   lies, 
'E's     blocked     the    'ole     division     from    the 

rear -guard   to   the    front, 
An'     when     we     gets     'im     up     again  —  the 

beggar   goes   an'   dies ! 

'E'll   gall   an'   chafe    an'    lame   an'  fight;    'e   smells 

most   awful    vile ; 
'E'll    lose   'imself   forever    if    you    let   'im    stray   a 

mile ; 
'E's  game  to  graze   the  'ole  day  long  an'  'owl  the 

'ole    night   through. 
An'    when    'e    comes    to    greasy    ground    'e    splits 

'isself   in   two. 


yo  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

0    the    oont,    0    the    ooiit,    0    the    floppin', 

droppin'   oont ! 
When    'is    long    legs    give    from    under    an' 

'is    meltin'    eye   is    dim, 
The   tribes    is   up   be'ind    us    an'   the    tribes 

is   out    in   front, 
It  ain't   no  jam   for   Tommy,   but   it's    kites 

and   crows    for   'im. 

So   when   the    cruel    march    is   done   an'   when  the 

roads    is   blind, 
An'   when   we    sees    the    camp    in    front    an'    'ears 

the    shots    be'ind, 
0   then   we   strips   'is   saddle   off,  and   all   'is   woes 

is    past : 
'E    thinks     on    us    that     used    'im    so,     an'     gets 
revenge   at  last. 
O    the    oont,    0    the    oont,    0    the    floatin', 

bloatin'    oont ! 
The  late   lamented  camel    in  the   water -cut 
he  lies : 


Oonts  !  7 1 

We  keeps  a  mile   behind   'im   an'   we   keeps 

a   mile    in    front, 
But    'e    gets    into    the    drinkin'   casks,    and 

then   o'   course    we   dies. 


72  Barrach-Koom  Ballads, 


LOOT. 

TF    you've   ever   stole   a   pheasant  -  egg   be'ind   the 
keeper's   back, 
If  you've  ever  siiigged  the  washin'  frum  the  line, 
If  you've  ever  crammed  a  gander  in  your  bloomin' 
'aversack, 
You    will   understand   tliis    little    song   o'    mine. 
But   the    service    rules   are    'ard,   an'   frum    such  we 
are    debarred, 
For    the     same    with     British     morals     does     not 
suit    (^Cornet:    Toot!    toot!)  — 
W'y,    they   call    a    man    a    robber   if    'e    stuffs   'is 
marchin'    clobber 
With   the  — 
(^Chorus.)    Loo!  loo!    Lulu!  lulu!    Loo!  loo!    Loot! 
loot !    loot ! 

'Ow   the   loot! 
Bloomin'   loot ! 


Loot.  73 

That's   the   thing   to   make   the    boys   git   up 
an'    shoot ! 
It's   the    same   with    dogs    an'    men, 
If   3-ou'd   make    'em   come    again 
Clap   'em    forward  with    a   Loo!    loo!     Lulu! 
Loot! 
(^)  Whoopee!    Tear  'im,  puppy!    Loo!   loo!    Lulu! 
Loot !    loot !    loot ! 

If    you've    knocked    a    nigger   edgeways    when    'e's 
thrustin'    for   your   life, 
You     must     leave     'im     very     carefid     where     'e 
fell; 
An'     may    thank    your    stars     an'    gaiters     if    you 
didn't    feel    'is    knife 
That     you     ain't     told     off     to     bury     him      as 
well. 
Then   the  sweatin'  Tommies  wonder  as  they   spade 
the   beggars    under 
Why   lootin'    should   be    entered   as    a   crime ; 


74  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

So  if   my   song  you'll  'ear,  I  will   learn   you   plain 
an'    clear 
'Ow   to   pay   yourself   for   iightin'   overtime 
{Chorus.)     With   the   loot,   etc. 

Now  remember  when  you're  'acking  round  a  gilded 
Burma   god 
That   'is   eyes   is   very   often   precious   stones ; 
An'    if    you   treat   a   nigger   to   a   dose    o'    cleanin'- 
rod 
'E's   like   to   show   yoa   everything   'e   owns. 
When  'e  won't  prodooce  no  more,  pour  some  water 
on   the   floor 
Where    you   'ear    it    answer   'oUow   to    the    boot 
{Cornet:    Toot!    toot!)  — 
When    the    ground    begins    to    sink,    shove    your 
baynick    down   the    chink, 
An'   you're    sure    to   touch   the  — 
(Chorus.)     Loo!    loo!     Lulu!     Loot!    loot!    loot! 
'Ow   the   loot,  etc. 


Loot.  75 

When  from  'ouse  to  'ouse   you're  'untin'   you  must 
always   work   in   pairs  — 
It   'alves   the   gain,   but   safer  you   will   find  — 
For   a   single    man    gits    bottled    on    them    twisty- 
wisty   stairs, 
An'  a  woman  comes   and  clobs  'im   from  be'ind. 
When   you've   turned  'em   inside   out,  an'  it   seems 
beyond   a   doubt 
As    if    there    weren't    enough    to    dust    a    flute 
{Cornet :    Toot !    toot !)  — 
Before     you     sling    your    'ook,    at    the    'ouse -tops 
take   a  look, 
For  it's  underneath  the  tiles   they  'ide  the   loot. 
(Chorus.)     'Ow   the   loot,    etc. 

You    can    mostly   square   a   Sergint   an'   a   Quarter- 
master too. 
If   you   only   take   the    proper   way   to   go ; 

/  could   never  keep  my   pickin's,    but    I've   learned 
you   all   I    knew  — 


76  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

An'   don't   you   never   say   I    told   you   so. 
An'   now   I'll   bid   good -by,    for   I'm   gettin'   rather 
dry, 
An'    I    see    another    tunin'    up   to    toot    {Cornet: 
Toot !    toot !)  — 
So     'ere's     good -luck     to     those     that     wears     the 
Widow's   clo'es. 
An'   the   Devil    send  'em   all   they  want   o'   loot! 
(Chorus.)     Yes,    the  loot, 
Bloomin'    loot. 
In   the   tunic   an'    the    mess -tin    an'   the   boot! 
It's    the  same    with    dogs    an'    men, 
If  you'd   make    'em   come   again 
Whoop  'era    forward    with    the    Loo!    loo!     Lulu! 

Loot !    loot !    loot ! 
Heeya !      Sick     'im,     puppy !     Loo !     loo !     Lulu ! 
Loot !    loot !    loot ! 


Soldier,   Soldier.  77 


SOLDIER,   SOLDIER. 

"  OOLDIER,    soldier   come   from    the   wars, 

Why  cloii't  you  march  with   my  true    love  ? " 
"  We're    fresh    from    off    the    ship,    an'  'e's    maybe 
give    the    slip, 
An'   you'd   best    go    look   for   a   new  love." 
New   love!     True   love! 
Best   go    look  for   a  new    love, 
The   dead   they   cannot    rise,    an''    you'd   better 

dry   your   eyes. 
An'    you\l   best   go    look  for   a   neiv    love. 

"  Soldier,    soldier   come    from   the    wars, 
Wha.t  did   you   see   o'    my   true    love  ? " 

"  I    see    'im    serve    the    Queen    in    a   suit    o'    rifle- 
green. 
An'  you'd   best    go   look    for   a   new   love." 


78  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

"  Soldier,    soldier  come    from   the   wars, 
Did   ye   see   no   more    o'    my   true   love  ? " 

"  I     see    'im    runnin'    by    when    the    shots    begun 
to    fly  — 
But   you'd   best   go   look   for   a   new   love." 

''  Soldier,    soldier   come    from   the  wars. 
Did   aught   take   'arm    to   my   true   love  ? " 

"  I  couldn't   see    the    fight,    for    the    smoke    it    lay 
so   Avhite  — 
An'   you'd   best   go   look   for   a   new   love." 

"  Soldier,    soldier   come    from    the    wars, 
I'll   up   an'    tend  to    my    true    love ! " 

"  'E's    lying    on    the    dead    with   a   bullet    through 
'is   'ead. 
An'   you'd   best   go   look    for   a   new   love." 

"  Soldier,    soldier   come    from    the    wars, 

I'll   lie  down  an'   die   with   my   true   love ! " 


Soldier,  Soldier.  79 

"  The     pit    we     dug'll    'ide    4iu     au'    twenty    men 
beside   'im  — 
An'   you'd   best   go    look   for   a   neAv   love." 

"  Soldier,    soldier   come  from    the   wars, 

Do   you   bring   no    sign    from    my   true   love  ? " 

"■  I    bring   a   lock    of    'air   that    'e    alius    used    to 
wear. 
An'   you'd   best   go   look   for   a   new   love." 

"  Soldier,    soldier   come    from   the    wars, 

O  then  I  know  it's  true  I've  lost  my  true  love!" 
"An'    I    tell   you    truth    again  —  wlien    you've    lost 
the    feel   o'    pain 
You'd    best   take    me    for   your   true   love." 
True   love  !     New   love  ! 
Best  take  'im  for   a   neiv   love. 
The    dead   they  cannot   rise,   an''    yoxCd    better 

dry   your   eyes, 
A71'   you'd   best   take  'im   for  your  true    love. 


8o  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 


THE  SONS  OF   THE    IV/DOW. 

'    A   VE   you   'eard   o'    the    Widow    at    Windsor 
With    a   hairy   gold   crown    on    'er    'ead  ? 
She  'as  ships  on  the  foam  —  she  'as  millions  at  'ome, 
An'    she    pays   us    poor   beggars    in    red. 
(Ow,    poor  beggars   in   red  !) 
There's    'er   nick   on   the    cavalry   'orses 

There's   'er   mark    on    the    medical    stores  — 
An'  'er  troopers  you'll  find  with  a  fair  wind  be'ind 
That   takes    us    to    various    Avars. 

(Poor   beggars  !  —  barbarious    wars  !) 

Then    'ere's    to    the    Widow   at    Windsor, 
An'   'ere's   to  the   stores  an'   the   guns, 
The    men    an'     the    'orses    what    makes 
up   the    forces 
0'    Missis    Victorier's    sons. 
(Poor   beggars  !  —  Victorier's    sons  !  ) 


The  Sons  of  the  IVidow.  8i 

Walk    wide   o'   the   Widow   at   Windsor, 

For   'alf   o'  creation   she   owns  : 
AYe    'ave    bought    'er    the    same    with     the    sword 
an'   the    flame, 
An'    we've    salted    it   down    with    our   bones. 

(Poor  beggars  !  —  it's   blue   with   our  bones  I) 
Hands    off  o'    the    sons   of   the    Widow, 
Hands    off  o'    the    goods    in    'er   shop, 
For  the    Kings  must  come   down  an'  the    Emperors 
frown 
When    the  W^idow    at    Windsor   says    "  Stop ! " 
(Poor  beggars !  — we're  sent  to  say  "Stop!") 
Then  'ere's  to  the   Lodge  o'  the  Widow, 
From    the     Pole    to     the     Tropics     it 
runs  — 
To    tlie    Lodge    that    we    tile   Avith    the 
rank    an'    the    file, 
An'    open    in    forms    with    the    guns. 
(Poor   beggars!  —  it's    always    them    guns!) 


82  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

We   'ave   'eard   o'  the   Widow   at    Windsor 

It's   safest   to  let   'er   alone : 
For  'er  sentries  we    stand   by  the  sea  an'  the   land 
Wherever   the   bugles   are   blown. 

(Poor  beggars  !  —  an'   don't  we    get   blown  !) 
Take    'old   o'    the    wings    o'    the    niornin', 

An'   flop   round   the    earth   till   you're    dead ; 
But   you  won't  get  away  from  the    tune   that   they 
play 
To   the   bloomin'   old   rag   over'ead. 

(Poor   beggars  !  —  it's    'ot   over'ead  !) 

Then   'ere's   to   the    sons   o'  the   Widow, 

Wherever,   'owever  they  roam. 
'Ere's     all     they     desire,     an'     if     they 
require 
A   speedy  return   to    their   'ome. 
(Poor   beggars  !  —  they'll   never   see   'ome  !) 


Troopin'.  83 


TROOP/N\ 

(Our  Army  in  the  East.) 

n^KOOPIN',   troopin',   troopin'   to   the    sea : 

'Era's    September   come    again  —  the    six -year 

men   are   free. 
0   leave    the     dead     be'ind    us,     for    they    cannot 

come   away 
To   where    the    ship's   a-coalin'   up    that    takes    us 
'ome   to  -  day. 

We're   goin'   'ome_,   we're    goin'   'ome, 

Our   ship   is   at   the    shore. 

An'   you   must   pack   your   'aversack, 

For   we   won't   come   back   no   more. 

Ho,   don't   you   grieve   for   me. 

My   lovely   Mary  -  Anne, 

For   I'll   marry   you   yit   on   a   fourp'ny  bit 

As  a  time  -  expired   man. 


84  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

The    Malabar^    in    'arbor   with    the    Juniner   at   'er 

tail, 
An'   the   time  -  expired's  waitin'  of  'is   orders  for  to 

sail. 
0  the  weary  waitin'  when  on  Kh3'ber  'ills  we  lay, 
But     the      time -expired's     waitin'     of     'is     orders 

'ome   to-day. 

They'll  turn   us    out   at   Portsmouth  wharf   in  cold 

an'   wet   an'    rain, 
All    wearin'    Injian    cotton    kit,    but    we    will    not 

complain ; 
They'll    kill    us    of    pneumonia  —  for    that's     their 

little   way  — 
But   damn   the   chills    and   fever,    men,   we're   goin' 

'ome   to  -  day  ! 

Troopin',    troopin'  —  winter's    round   again  ! 
See     the     new     draf's      pourin'     in     for     the      old 
campaign ; 


Troopin'.  85 

Ho,    you   poor   recruities,    but    you've    got   to   earn 

your   pay  — 
What's   the  last  from   Lunnon,  lads  ?     We're    goin' 

there   to  -  day. 

Troopin',    troopin',    give    another   cheer  — 

'Ere's   to   English   women   an'   a   quart   of    English 

beer; 
The   Colonel    an'    the   regiment   an'   all  who've    got 

to   stay. 
Gawd's    mercy   strike   'em    gentle  —  Whoop !    we're 
goin'    'ome   to  -  day. 

We're    goin'   'ome,    we're    goin'    'ome, 

Our   ship   is    at   the    shore, 

An'   you   must   pack   your   'aversackj 

For   we    won't   come   back   no    more. 

Ho,    don't   you    grieve    for   me. 

My    lovely    Mary  -  Anne, 

For   I'll    marry    you   yit    on   a   fourp'ny   bit 

As    a   time  -  expired   man. 


86  Barrack- Room  Ballads. 


GUNGA   DIN. 

The  bhisti,  or  water-carrier,  attached  to  regiments  iu  India,  is  often 
one  of  tlie  most  devoted  of  the  Queen's  servants.  He  is  also  appreciated 
by  tlie  men. 

[THIS  BALLAD  IS  EXTENSIVKLY   PLAGIARIZED.] 

"'VT^OU    may    talk   o'    gin    an'    beer 

When    you're    quartered    safe    out   'ere, 
An'   you're   sent   to  penny -tights   an'   Aldershot  it; 
But   if   it   comes    to    slaughter 
You   will     do   your   work   on    water, 
An'    you'll    lick    the    bloomin'    boots    of    'im    that's 

got    it. 
ISTow    in    Injia's    sunny   clime. 
Where    I    used   to   spend    my   time 
A-servin'    of   'Er    Majesty    the    Queen, 
Of    all   them    black -faced   crew 
The   finest   man   I   knew 
Was   our   regimental   bhisti,    Gunga   Din. 


Gunga  Dill.  87 

He    was    "  Din  !    Din  !    Din  ! 

You    limping    lump    o'     brick -dust,     Gunga 

Din  ! 
Hi  !    slippy    hltJterao ! 
Water,    get    it !     Panee  lao  !  ^ 
You   squidgy  -  nosed   old   idol,    Gunga   Din!'' 

The    uniform    'e    wore 
Was    notliin'    much    before, 
An'   rather   less    than    'arf    o'    that    be'ind, 
For   a  twisty   piece   o'   rag 
An'   a   goatskin    water  -  bag 
Was   all   the  field -equipment  'e   could    find. 
When   the   sweatin'    troop-train    lay 
In   a   sidin'    through   the    day, 

Where   the   'eat    would    make    your    bloomin'    eye- 
brows  crawl, 
We   shouted    "Harry    By  !  "  2 

'  Hring  water  swiftly. 

2  Mr.   Atkins's   equivalent   for   "O    Brother!"  " 


88  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

Till    our  throats    were   bricky-dry, 
Then    we    wopped    'im    'cause    'e    couldn't     serve 
us   all. 

It   was    "  Din  !    Din  !    Din  ! 

You   'eathen,   where    the    mischief    'ave   you 

been  ? 
You   put   some  juldee   in    it, 
Or    I'll    marroiv    you    this    minute^ 
If     yon    don't    fill     up    my    helmet,    Gunga 
Din !  " 

'E   would    dot    an'    carry   one 

Till    the   longest   day    was    done, 

An'    'e   didn't   seem    to   know    the   use   o'    fear. 

If    we    charged    or   broke    or   cut, 

You   could   bet   your   bloomin'    nut, 

'E'd   be    waitin'    fifty    paces    right   flank    rear. 

With    'is   mussick   on    'is   back, 

'E    would    skip    with    our   attack. 

An'    watch   us   till   the    bugles    made    "Retire." 

1  Hit  you. 


Gunga  Din.  89 

An'   for   all    'is   dirty    'ide 

'E    was   white,    clear   white,    inside 

When    'e    went   to   tend   the    wonnded    under    fire ! 
It   was    "  Din  !    Din  !    Din  !  " 
With   the   bullets    kickin'   dust -spots   on   the 

green. 
When   the    cartridges    ran    out. 
You   could   'ear   the    front  -  files    shout : 
"Hi!    ammunition  -  mules    an'    Gunga   Din!" 

T    sha'n't   forgit   the   night 

When    I    dropped    be'ind   the    fight 

With    a     bullet    where    my    belt  -  plate    should    'a' 

been. 
I    was    chokin'    mad    with    thirst, 
An'    the    man    that    spied    me    first 
Was   our   good    old    grinnin',    gruntin'    Gunga   Din. 
'E   lifted   up   my    'ead, 
An'    'e    plugged    me    where    I    bled, 
An'    'e   guv    me    'arf-a-})int   o'   water  —  green: 


go  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

It   was   crawlin'   and   it   stunk, 
But   of    all    the    drinks    I've    drunk, 
I'm   gratefullest   to   one   from    Gunga   Din. 
It   was    "  Din  !    Din  !    Din  ! 
'Ere's    a   beggar   with    a    bullet    through    'is 

spleen ; 
'E's    chaw  in'  up   the    ground   an'    'e's    kickin' 

all    around : 
For     Gawd's     sake     git     the     water,    Gunga 
Din  ! " 

'E    carried   me   away 

To    where    a   dooli    lay. 

An'   a   bullet   come   an'   drilled     the     beggar   clean. 

'E   put   me   safe    inside. 

An'    just    before    'e    died: 

*'  I    'ope   you    liked   your    drink,"    sez    Gunga    Din. 

So   I'll    meet   'im   later   on 

In    the   place    where    'e  is    gone  — 

Where   it's   always   double   drill    and    no    canteen ; 


Giinga  Din.  9^ 

'E'll   be   squattin'    on   the   coals 
Givin'   drink   to   pore    damned   souls, 
An'   I'll    get   a   swig   in    Hell    from    Gunga   Din  ! 
Din  !    Din  !    Din  ! 

You   Lazarushian -leather    Gunga   Din! 
Tho'    I've    belted   you    an'    flayed   you, 
By    the   livin'    Gawd    that    made   you, 
You're    a    better    man    than    I    am,     Gunga 
Din ! 


Barrack- Room  Ballads. 


MANDALA  Y. 

"DY   the   old   Moulmein   Pagoda,    lookin'  eastward 

to   the    sea, 
There's   a   Burma   girl  a-settin',   an'    I    know    she 

thinks    o'    me  ; 
For    the    wind    is     in     the     palm-trees,     an'    the 

temple  -  bells    they   say  : 
"Come   you   back,    you   British    soldier;    come   you 
back   to   Mandalay  !  " 

Come   you   Vjack   to    Mandalay, 

Where   the   old   Flotilla   lay : 

Can't   you    'ear  their   paddles   chunkin'    from 

Rangoon   to    ]Mandalay " 
0   the   road   to    Mandalay, 
Where    the    flyin'- fishes    play, 
An'   the   dawn    comes  up  like  thunder  outer 
China   'crost   the   Bay  ! 


Maiidalay.  93 

'Er  petticut   was    yaller     an'     'er    little     cap     was 

green, 
An'   'er   name    was    Supi-3'aw-lat  —  jes'    the   same 

as   Tlieebaw's   Queen, 
An'    I    seed    her    fust     a-sniokin'    of     a    whackin' 

white    cheroot. 
An'    a-wastin'      Christian     kisses     on     an     'eathen 
idol's    foot :  ^^ 

Bloomin'    idol    made   o'    mud  — 
.  Wot   they    called   the    Great    Gawd    Budd  — 
Plucky    lot    she     cared     for     idols     when    I 

kissed    'er   wliere    she    stud ! 
On   the    road   to    Mandalay  — 

When    the    mist    was    on    the    rice  -  fields    an'    the 

sun    was    drojipin'    slow. 
She'd   git    'er   little    banjo    an'    she'd    sing    "  KuUa- 

lo  -  lo  !  " 
With   'er   arm    upon    my    shoulder    an'    her    cheek 

agin   my    cheek 


94  Barrack-Room  "Ballads. 

We    useter    Avatch     the     steamers     an'    the    hathis 
pilin'    teak. 

Elephints   a -pilin'   teak 

In   the    sludgy,    squdgy   creek, 

Where   the   silence   'ung  that  'eavy  you  was 

'arf    afraid    to    speak ! 
On    the   road   to   Mandalay  — 

But    that's    all    shove    be'ind    me  —  long    ago    an' 

fur   away. 
An'    there    ain't   no    'buses   runnin'   from    the    Benk 

to    Mandalay  ; 
An'    I'm   learnin'    'ere    in    London    what    the    ten- 
year   sodger   tells : 
"If    you've    'card     the     East    a-callin',    why,    you 
won't   'eed    nothin'    else." 
No !    you    won't   'eed   nothin'    else 
But   them   spicy    garlic   smells 
An'    the    sunshine    an'    the    palm-trees    an' 

the    tinkly    temple  -  bells  ! 
On   the   road   to    Mandalay  — 


Maudalay.  95 

I    am    sick    o'     wastin'     leather     on     these     gutty 

paviu'- stones, 
An'   the   blasted   Henglish   drizzle  wakes  the  fever 

in    my    bones ; 
Tho'   I    walks    with   fifty   'ousemaids   outer  Chelsea 

to   the    Strand, 
An'    they    talks   a   lot   o'    lovin',    but    wot    do    they 
understand  ? 

Beefy   face   an'    grubby    'and  — 

Law  I    wot   do   they    understand  ? 

I've   a   neater,    sweeter  maiden   in  a  cleaner, 

greener   land  ! 
On   the    road   to   Mandalay  — 

Ship    me    somewheres    east     of     Suez     where     the 

best    is    like    the    worst, 
Where  there  aren't   no  Ten  Commandments,  an'  a 

man   can    raise   a   thirst ; 
Por    the    temple -bells    are    callin',    an'    it's    there 

that    I   would   be  — 


9 6  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

By    the    old    Moulmein     Pagoda,    lookin'    lazy    at 
the   sea  — 

On   the    road    to    ]\[andalay, 

Where    the    old    Flotilla   lay, 

"With    our   sick    beneath    the    awnings    when 

we   went   to   Mandalay ! 
Oh,    the    road   to    Mandalay, 
Where  the   flyin'-  fishes    play. 
An'   the   dawn   comes  up  like   thunder  outer 
China   'crost   the    Bay  I 


Ihe  Yoinio-  British  Soldier.  97 


THE    YOUNG  BRITISH  SOLDIER. 

"T'/TTHEX   the  'arf-made   recruity  goes  out  to  the 

East 
'E   acts   like   a   babe   an'   'e   drinks   like   a  beast, 
An'    'e    wonders   because    'e    is    frequent   deceased 
Ere   'e's   fit   for   to   serve   as   a   soldiei-. 
Serve,   serve,   serve   as   a   soldier. 
Serve,   serve,    serve   as    a   soldier, 
Serve,   serve,    serve   as    a   soldier, 
So-oldier   hnf  the   Queen ! 

Now   all    you    recruities    what's    drafted    tc-day, 

You    shut    u])    your   rag -box    an'    'ark    to   my   lay, 

An'    I'll    sing    you    a   soldier    as    far    as    I    may: 

A   soldier    what's   fit   for    a    soldier. 

Fit,    fit,  fit   for   a   soldier  — 


98  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

First,  mind  you  steer  clear  o'  the  grog- sellers'  huts, 
For   they    sell   you   Fixed   Bay 'nets    that    rots    out 

your   guts  — 
A}',    drink   that   'ud   eat   the   live    steel    from   your 
butts  — 

An'  it's   bad  for  the  young  British  soldier. 
Bad,    bad,    bad    for    the    soldier  — 

When  the  cholera  comes  —  as  it  Avill  past  a  doubt  — 
Keep  out  of  the  wet  and  don't  go  on  the  shout, 
For   the  sickness   conies   in   as  the  liquor  dies   out, 
An'    it   crumples   the    young   British    soldier. 
Crum-,    crum-,    crumples    the   soldier  — 

But   the   worst    o'    your   foes    is   the    sun   over'ead; 
You    TTiust   wear   your    'elmet    for    all    that    is    said. 
If   'e   finds   you   uncovered   'e'll    knock    you    down 
dead. 

An'   you'll    die   like   a   fool   of  a   soldier. 
Fool,    fool,    fool   of    a    soldier  — 


The  Young  British  Soldier.  99 

If  you're  cast  for  fatigue  by  a  sergeant  unkind, 
Don't  grouse  like  a  woman  nor  crack  on  nor  blind  ; 
Be   handy   and   civil,    and    then   you   will   find 

As   it's   beer  for    the    young    British    soldier. 
Beer,    beer,    beer    for    the    soldier  — 

Now,  if    you    must    marry,  take    care  she    is    old  — 
A   troop -sergeant's  widow's   the    nicest    I'm   told  — 
For   beauty  won't    help    if    your   vittles    is    cold. 
An'    love    ain't    enough    for    a    soldier. 

'Nough,   'nough,    'nough    for    a   soldier  — 

If    the    wife    should    go    wrong    with     a     comrade, 

be   loath 
To    shoot    when    you    catch    'em  —  you'll    swing,  on 

my    oath  !  — 
Make    'im    take    'er    and    keep    'er ;    that's  hell    for 
them    both, 

An'  you're    quit   o'  the    curse    of   a   soldier. 
Curse,    curse,    curse    of    a    soldier  — 


loo  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

When    first   under  fire    an'  you're  wishful   to  duck, 
Don't    look    or    take    'eed    at    the     man    that    is 

struck, 
Be    thankful    you're    livin'   an'    trust   to   your   luck, 
An'    march   to   your    front    like    a    soldier. 
Front,    front,    front    like    a    soldier. 

When  'arf   of   your  bullets   fly    wide    in    the   ditch, 
Don't   call    your    Martini    a    cross-eyed    old    hitch; 
She's   human   as  you   are  —  you    treat    her   as    sich, 
An'    she'll   fight    for   the   young  British    sol- 
dier. 

Fight,    fight,    fight   for    the    soldier  — 

When   shakin'    their    bustles    like    ladies    so    fine 
The    guns    o'    the    enemy    wheel    into  line; 
Shoot   low   at    the     limbers     and    don't    mind    the 
shine. 

For   noise    never   startles    the    soldier. 
Start-,    start-,    startles   the   soldier  — 


The  Young  British  Soldier.  loi 

If  your  officer's   dead  and  the  sergeants  look  -svliite, 
Remember    it's    ruin    to    run    from    a    fight ; 
So   take    open    order,  lie    down,  and   sit    tight, 
An'  wait   for   supports    like    a   soldier. 
"Wait,    wait,    wait    like    a    soldier  — 

When    yoii're    wounded    an'    left    on    Afghanistan's 

plains. 
An'    the    women    come     out     to     cut     up     your    re- 
mains, 
Jest    roll  to  3'our    rifle    an'    blow   out    your    brains. 
An'    go   to    your    Gawd    like    a    soldier : 
Go,    go,    go    like    a    soldier. 
Go,    go,    go    like    a    soldier. 
Go,    go,    go    like    a    soldier, 
So-oldier    Itof  the    Queen. 


Barrack-Room  Ballads. 


SCREW-GUNS. 

OMOKIN'    my    pipe    on    the    mountings,   sniffin' 

the    mornin'-cool, 
I    walks    in    my    old    brown    gaiters    along    o'    my 

old    brown    mule, 
With    seventy    gunners    be'ind    me,    an'    never    a 

beggar   forgets 
It's  only    the   pick    o'  the    Army   that   handles   the 

dear   little    pets  —  Tss  !     Tss  ! 

For  you  all  love  the  screw -guns  —  the  screw- 
guns   they    all   love  you. 

So  when  we  call  round  with  a  few  guns,  o'  course 
you  will  know  what  to  do  —  hoo !    hoo  ! 

Jest  send  in  your  Chief  an'  surrender  —  it's 
worse    if   you    iights    or   you   runs : 

You  can  go  where  you  please,  you  can  skid 
up  tlie  trees,  but  you  don't  get  aAvay  from 
the   guns. 


Screw-Guns.  103 

They    send    us     along    where    the     roads    are,    but 

mostly    we    goes   where   they    ain't ; 
We'd    climb    up    the    side    of     a    sign -board     an' 

trust  to   the   stick    o'  the   paint ; 
We've    chivied     the    Naga     an'    Lushai,    we've    give 

the    Afreedeeman   fits, 
For    we     fancies    ourselves     at    two    thousand,   we 

guns    that   are    built    in    two   bits  —  Tss !     Tss  ! 
For   you   all   love  the   screw -guns  — 

If   a   man     doesn't   work,    why,    we     drills    'im    an' 

teaches  'im   'ow   to   be'ave ; 
If   a   beggar    can't    march,   why,   w'e    kills    'im    an' 

rattles   'im    into  'is    grave. 
You've    got     to     stand     up     to    our     business     an' 

spring   without    snatchin'    or   fuss. 
D'  you   say    that   you   sweat    with   the    field-guns? 

By     God,    you     must     lather    with    us  —  Tss ! 

Tss! 

For   you  all   love    the   screw- guns  — 


I04  Barrack-Room  Ballads. 

The    eagles    is    screamin'    around    us,    the    river's 

a-moanin'    below, 
We're   clear   o'  the   pine    an'    the    oak -scrub,   we're 

out   on    the    rocks    an'    the    snow, 
An'    the    wind    is    as    thin    as    a   whip-lash    what 

carries    away    to  the    plains 
The     rattle     an'     stamp     o'    the     lead- mules  —  the 

jinglety-jink    o'    the    chains  —  Tss  !     Tss  ! 
For   you   all    love    the    screw -guns  — 

There's  a  wheel  on  the  Horns  o'  the  Mornin' 
an'    a  wheel    on    the   edge    o'    the    Pit, 

An'  a  drop  into  nothin'  beneath  us  as  straight 
as    a    beggar   can    spit ; 

With  the  sweat  runnin'  out  o'  your  shirt- 
sleeves an'  the  sun  off  the  snow  in  your 
face, 

An'   'arf   o'    the    men    on    the    drag -ropes    to    hold 
the    old    gun    in    'er   place  —  Tss  !     Tss  ! 
For   you   all   love   the   screw -guns  — 


Screw-Guns.  105 

Smokin'    my    pipe    on    the    mountings,    sniffin'    the 

mornin'-cool, 
I   climbs    in    my    old    brown    gaiters    along    o'    niy 

old    brown    mule. 
The    monkey    can    say   what    our    road    was  —  the 

wild -goat   'e   knows    where    we    passed. 
Stand    easy,    you    long -eared     old     darlin's  !      Out 

drag  -  ropes  !      With    shrapnel!      Hold    fast!  — 

Tss  !     Tss  ! 

For     you     all      love     the     screw -guns  —  the 

screw -guns   they    all    love   you! 
So    when    Ave    take    tea   with   a   few  guns,   o' 

course    you    will     know    what    to    do  — 

hoo  !     hoo  ! 
Just    send    in    your    Chief    and    surrender  — 

it's    worse    if   you    fights    or   you    runs : 
You    may    hide    in     the    caves,    they'll     be 

only    your    graves,   but    you    don't    get 

away    from    the  guns ! 


io6  Barrack-Room  Ballads, 


BELTS. 

nnHEEE  was   a   row   in  Silver  Street  that's  near 

to   Dublin    Quay, 
Between  an  Irish  regiment  an'  English  cavalree ; 
It  started  at  Revelly  an'  it  lasted  on  till  dark ; 
The    first    man    dropped    at    Harrison's,    the    last 
forninst   the   Park. 

For    it    was    "Belts,    belts,    belts,    an'   that's 

one    for   you  ! '' 
An'    it    was    "  Belts,    belts,    belts,  an'    that's 

done  for  you  !  " 
0   buckle   an'    tongue 
Was   the   song  that   we  sung 
From   Harrison's   on    to   the    Park ! 

There   was  a  row   in  Silver  Street  —  the  regiments 

was   out. 
They   called  us    "Delhi    Rebels,"   an'   we   answered 

"  Threes   about !  " 


Belts.  107 

That   drew    them    like    a    hornet's    nest  —  we    met 

them    good   an'   large, 
The   English   at    the   double   an'   the    Irish    at   the 

charge. 

Then   it   was :    Belts  — 

There   was   a  row    in    Silver   Street  —  an'   I  was   in 

it   too  ; 
We   passed    the    time   o'   day,   an'   then    the    belts 

Avent   wliirraru  ; 
T    misremember  what  occurred,  but   subsequint  the 

storm 
A     Freeman's     Journal     Svjrplemint     was     all     my 

uniform. 

0    it   was:    Belts  — 

There  was   a  row  in  Silver  Street  —  they  sent  the 

Polls   there. 
The   English    were    too   drunk    to    know,    the    Irish 

didn't   care ; 


io8  Barrach-Rooin  Ballads. 

But   when    they   grew   impertiinnt    we   siinultaueous 

rose, 
Till    half   o'   tliern   was    Liffey    mud    an'    half   was  ■ 

tatthered   clo'es. 

For  it   was  :    Belts  — 


There    was    a   row  in    Silver    Street  —  it   might   ha' 

raged   till   now, 
But      some     one     drew     his     side  -  arm     clear,     an' 

nobody   knew    how; 
'Twas     Hogan    took    the    point    an'    dropped ;     we 

saw    the    red    blood    run : 
An'   so    we  all  Avas    murderers   that   started   out   in 

fun. 

While   it   was :    Belts  — 

There  was   a  row  in   Silver  Street  —  but  that  took 

off   the   shine, 
Wid    each    man    whishperin'   to    his    next:    '"Twas 

never    work   o'    mine ! " 


Belts.  109 

We    went    away    like    beaten   clogs,   an'    down    the 

street   we    bore    liini, 
The     poor    dumb     corpse     that     couldn't     see     the 

bhoys    were    sorry    for    him. 
When   it   was  :    Belts  — 

There   was   a   row   in    Silver   Street  —  it  isn't    over 

yet, 

For   half   of   us  are    under    guard   wid    punislnnints 

to   get; 
'Tis    all   a   mericle    to    me    as    in   tlie    Clink    I    lie ; 
There     was     a     row     in    Silver     Street  —  begod,    I 
wonder    why  ! 

But    it    was    "  Belts,    belts,    belts,    an'    that's 

one    for   you ! " 
An'    it    was    "  Belts,    belts,    belts,    an'    that's 

done    for   you  !  " 
0   buckle    an'    tongue 
Was    the    song   that   we    sung 
From    Harrison's    down    to    the   Bark ! 


OTHER   VERSES. 


TO    THE   UNKNOWN  GODDESS. 

'TTT'ILL  you  conquer  my  heart  with  3'oui-  beauty  ; 

my    soul    going   out   from    afar  ? 
Shall    I   fall    to   your   hand   as    a   victim    of    crafty 
and    cautious   sliikar? 

Have  I  met  you  and  passed  you  already, 
unknowing,    unthinking    and    blind  ? 

Shall  I  meet  you  next  session  at  Simla,  O 
sweetest   and   best   of   your   kind  ? 

Does  the  P.  and  0.  bear  you  to  me -ward,  or, 
clad   in    short   frocks    in   the    West, 

Are    you    growing    the    charms    that   shall    ca^iture 
and   torture   the    heart    in    my   breast? 
"3 


114  Other  Verses. 

Will   you   stay   in   the    Plains    till    September  —  my 

passion    as   warm   as   the   day  ? 
Will    you    bring    me    to    book    on   the    Mountains, 

or   where   the   thermantidotes    play  ? 

When   the    light    of    your   eyes    shall    make    pallid 

the    mean   lesser   lights    I    pursue, 
And    the    charm    of    your   presence    shall    lure    me 

from    love   of   the   gay    "  thirteen  -  two ;  " 

When  the  peg  and  the  pig -skin  shall  please  not; 
when    I   buy    me   Calcutta  -  built   clothes ; 

When  I  quit  the  Delight  of  W^ild  Asses ;  for- 
swearing  the    swearing   of   oaths ; 

As  a  deer  to  the  hand  of  the  hunter  when  I 
turn    'mid   the    gibes    of   my    friends ; 

When  the  days  of  my  freedom  are  numbered, 
and   the   life   of   the    bachelor   ends. 


To  the  Unluiowii  Goddess.  115 

Ah  Goddess !  child,  spinster,  or  widow  —  as  of 
old   on    IVIars   Hill    when   they    raised 

To  the  God  that  they  knew  not  an  altar  —  so 
I,   a   young   Pagan,    have   praised 

The    Goddess    I    know    not    nor    Avorship ;    yet,    if 

half   that   men    ^ell    me    be   true. 
You  will   come    in  the  future,   and   therefore   these 

verses   are   written   to   you. 


ii6  Other  l^erses. 


THE  RUPAIYAT  OF  OMAR  KAL'VIN. 

[Allowinc  for  tilt'  (liftVrcMice  'twixt  prose  and  rhymed  exaggeration, 

this  ought  to  reproduce  the  sense  of    what   Sir  A tokl  the  nation 

some  time  ago,  when  the  Government  struck  frcjm  our  incomes  two 
per  cent. J 

nvrOW  the  New  Year,   reviving  last  Year's  Debt, 
The  Thoughtful  Fisher  casteth  wide  his  Net; 
So    I    with    begging   Dish   and    ready    Tongue 
Assail   all   Men   for   all   that   I   can   get. 

Imports    indeed    are    gone    with   all   their   Dues  — 
Lo !    Salt    a   Lever   that    I    dare    not    use, 

Nor   may    I   ask   the   Tillers    in   Bengal  — 
Surely   my    Kith   and   Kin    will    not   refuse ! 

Pay  —  and   T    promise    by   the   Dust   of   Spring, 
Retrenchment.      If   my    promises  can   bring 

Comfort,   Ye   have   Them   now  a  tliousand-fold  — 
By   Allah!    I    will   promise   Anytlting ! 


The  Rtipaiyat  of  Omar  Kal'vin.  117 

Indeed,  indeed,    Retrenchment   oft   before 

I   swore — but   did   I    mean   it  wlien   I   swore? 

And  then,  and  then,  We  wandered  to  tlie  Hills, 
And   so   the   Little   Less   became   Much   More. 

Whether   at   Boileaugunge  or   Babylon, 

I   know    not   how    the    wretched   Thing   is   done, 

The   Items   of   Receipt   grow   surely  small; 
The   Items   of   Expense    mount   one   by   one. 

I   cannot   help   it.     What   have   I   to   do 
With   One   and   Five,   or   Four,   or  Three,  or  Two  ? 
Let    Scribes    spit    Blood    and    Sulphur    as    they 
please. 
Or   Statemen   call   me   foolish  —  Heed   not   you. 

Behold,    I   promise  —  Anything   You   will. 
Behold,    I   greet   you   with   an   empty    Till  — 

Ah  !    Fellow  -  Sinners,    of  your   Charity 
Seek   not   the   Reason   of   the   Dearth,    but   lill. 


ii8  Other  yerses. 

For   if   I    sinned   and    fell,    where    lies    the    Gain 
Of    Knowledge  ?      Would    it     ease     you     of    your 
Pain 
To    know    the    tangled   Threads   of   Revenue, 
I   ravel   deeper   in   a  hopeless    Skein  ? 

"  Who   hath  not  Prudence "  —  what  was   it  I  said, 

Of     Her    who    paints     her    Eyes    and    tires    Her 

Head, 

And   gibes  and  mocks  the  People  in  the  Street, 

And   fawns   upon   them   for   Her  thriftless  Bread  ? 

Accursed   is    She   of   Eve's    daughters  —  She 
Hath   cast    off   Prudence,    and    Her   End   shall    be 
Destruction     .    .    .     Brethren,    of    your     Bounty 
grant 
Some   portion   of  your   daily    Bread  to   Me. 


La  Niiit  Blanche.  119 


LA    NUIT   BLANCHE. 

A  MUCH-DISCERNING  Public  hold 

The  Singer  generally  sings 

Of  personal  and  private  things, 
And  prints  and  sells  liis  past  for  gold. 

Whatever  I  may  here  disclaim, 

The  very  clever  folk  I  sing  to 

Will  most  indubitably  cling  to 
Their  pet  delusion,  just  the  same. 

T   HAD   seen,   as   dawn   was    breaking 

And    I    staggered   to    my    rest, 
Tari    Devi   softly    shaking 

From    the    Cart    Road    to    the    crest. 
I    had    seen   the    spurs    of   Jakko 

Heave    and    quiver,    swell   and   sink. 
Was    it    Earthquake    or   tobacco. 

Day   of   Doom   or   Night   of   Drink  ? 

In   the    full,    fresh,    fragrant    niorning 
1   observed   a  camel   crawl, 


Other  yerses. 

Laws   of   gravitation   scorniug, 

Ou   the   ceiling   and   the   wall ; 
Then   I   watched   a   fender   walking, 

And   I   heard   gray    leeches   sing, 
And   a   red-hot    monkey    talking 

Did    not   seem    the    proper   thing. 

Then   a   Creature,    skinned   and   crimson, 

Ran   about   the   floor   and   cried, 
And   they   said   I   had   the    "jims"   on. 

And   they    dosed   me    with    bromide. 
And   they   locked   me   in    my    bedroom  — 

Me   and  one    wee    Blood   Red   Mouse  — 
Though   I   said :     "  To   give   my   head  room 

"  You   had   best   unroof   the    house." 

But   my   words   were   all   unheeded, 
Though   I  told   the    grave   M.l). 

That   the   treatment   really    needed 
Was   a   dip    in   open   sea 


La  Niiit  Blanche. 

That   was   lapping   just   below   me, 
Smooth    as    silver,    white    as    snow, 

And   it   took    three    men    to   throw    me 
When   I    found   I    could   not   go. 

Half  the    night    I   watched   the   Heavens 

Fizz    like    '81    champagne  — 
Fly   to   sixes   and   to   sevens. 

Wheel   and   tliunder   back   again ; 
And   when    all    was    peace    and   order 

Save   one   planet   nailed   askew. 
Much   I    wept   because    my    warder 

Would    not   let   me   set   it   true. 

After   frenzied   hours   of   waiting, 

When   the   Earth   and    Skies   were   dumb, 

Pealed   an   awful   voice   dictating 
An   interminable   sum, 

Changing   to   a   tangled   story  — 

'•'What   she   said   you   said   I   said  — " 


other  yerses. 

Till    tlie   Moon    arose   in   glory, 

And   I   found   her   ...    in   ray   head ; 

Then   a   Face   came,    blind   and   weeping, 

And   It   couldn't    wipe    Its   eyes, 
And   It   muttered    I    was   keeping 

Back   the    moonlight   from    the   skies ; 
So    I    patted    It    for   pity, 

But    It    whistled    shrill    with    wrath. 
And   a   huge    black    Devil    City 

Poured   its   peoples   on   my   path. 


So   I   fled  with    steps   uncertain 

On    a   thousand  -  year   long   race, 
But   the    bellying    of   the    curtain 

Kept   me    always    in   one    place ; 
While   the    tumult    rose    and    maddened 

To   the    roar   of   Earth   on    fire, 
Ere    it   ebbed   and   sank    and   saddened 

To   a   whisper   tense   as   wire. 


La  Niiit  Blanche.  123 

In   intolerable    stillness 

Rose   one   little,    little    star, 
And   it   chuckled   at   my    illness, 

And   it   mocked   me    from   afar; 
And   its    brethren    came    and   eyed   me. 

Called   the    Universe   to   aid, 
Till   I   lay,    with   naught   to   hide   me, 

'Neath   the   Scorn   of   All   Things    Made. 

Dun   and   saffron,    robed   and   splendid, 

Broke    the    solemn,    pitying   Day, 
And   I   knew    my   pains   were   ended, 

And   I    turned   and   tried   to   pray ; 
But   my    speech   was    shattered   wholly. 

And   I   wept   as   children   weep. 
Till   the    dawn -wind,    softly,    slowly, 

Brought   to   burning  eyelids    sleep. 


124  Other  l^erses. 


MV  RIVAL. 

T    GO   to   concert,    party,    ball  — 

What   profit   is   in   these  ? 
I    sit   alone   against   the    wall 

And   strive    to   look   at   ease. 
The   incense   that   is    mine    by    right 

They   burn   before    Her    shrine ; 
And   that's    because    I'm    seventeen 

And   She    is   forty  -  nine. 

I   cannot   check   my   girlish   blush, 

My    color   comes    and   goes ; 
I    redden   to    my    finger-tips, 

And   sometimes    to    my    nose. 
But    She    is    white    where    white    should   be, 

And    red   where   red   should   shine. 


My  Rival.  125 

The    blush   that   flies    at  seventeen 
Is   fixed   at   forty -nine. 

I   wish   /  had    Her  constant   cheek : 

I    wish    that    I    coukl   sing 
All    sorts    of   funny    little    songs, 

Not    quite    the    proper    thing. 
I'm    very   gauche   and   very    shy, 

Her   jokes    aren't   in    my    line ; 

And,    worst   of   all,    I'm    seventeen 

While    She    is   forty  -  nine. 

The   young   men   come,    the   young   men   go, 

Each    pink    and   white    and   neat, 
She's    older   than   their    mothers,   but 

They   grovel    at    Her    feet. 
They   walk   beside  Her   'rickshaiv   wheels  — 

None   ever    walk   by    mine ; 
And   that's   because    I'm    seventeen 

And    She    is    forty  -  nine. 


126  Other  l^erses. 

She    rides    with   half   a   dozen    men, 

(She    calls    them    "boys"    and    "mashers") 
I    trot   along    the   jVIall    alone ; 

My    prettiest    frocks    and  sashes 
Don't   help    to    fill    my    programme  -  card, 

And   vainly    I    repine 
From    ten    to   two   a.m.      Ah   me ! 

Would    I   were    forty  -  nine  ! 

She   calls    me    "darling,"    "pet,"   and    "dear," 

And    "sweet   retiring   maid." 
I'm    always    at   the    back,    I    know. 

She    puts    me    in   the    shade. 
She   introduces    me    to    men, 

"  Cast "    lovers,    I   opine, 
For   sixty    takes    to    seventeen, 

Nineteen    to    forty -nine. 

But    even    She    must   older   grow 
And    end    Her   dancing   days, 


I 


Mj'  Rival.  127 

She    can't   go   on   forever   so 

At   concerts,    balls,    and   plays. 
One    ray    of   priceless   hope    I    see 

Before    my    footsteps    shine; 
Just   think,    that    She'll    be    eighty -one 

When   I   am   forty  -  nine. 


128  Other  l^erses. 


THE  LOVERS'  LITANY. 

~C^ YES   of   gray  —  a   soddeu   quay, 

Driving   rain  and  falling   tears, 
As   the    steamer   wears    to   sea 
In   a   parting   storm    of   cheers. 

Sing,    for  Faith   and   Hope    are    high  - 
None    so   true    as   you    and    I  — 
Sing   the    Lovers'    Litany  :  — 
'■'■Love    like   ours   can   7iever  die!'''' 

Eyes   of   black  —  a   throbbing   keel, 

IMilky    foam    to    left   and    right ; 

Whispered   converse   near   the    wheel 

In    the   brilliant   tropic    night. 

Cross   that   rules   the    Southern    Sky ! 
Stars   that   sweep   and   Avheel   and   fly, 
Hear   the    Lovers'    Litany  :  — 
'■'Love   like   ours   can   never  die/" 


The  Lovers'  Litany.  129 

Eyes   of   brown  —  a   dusty   plain 
Split   and   parched  with   heat   of   June, 
Flying   hoof   and   tightened    rein, 
Hearts   that   beat   the    old,    old   tune. 

Side   by    side   the    horses   fly, 

Frame  we   now    the    old    reply 

Of   the   Lovers'    Litany  :  — 

'■^  Love   like   ours  can   never   die  ! ''^ 

Eyes   of   blue  —  the    Simla   Hills 
Silvered   with   the    moonlight  hoar; 
Pleading   of   the    waltz    that   thrills. 
Dies   and    echoes    round   Beninore. 
''Mahel-'    ''Officers,''    '' Good-hij,'' 
Glamour,    wine,    and   witchery  — 
On    my   soul's    sincerity, 
"  Love   like  ours   can   never   die  !  " 

Maidens,    of  your   charity, 
Pity    my    most    luckless    state. 


130 


other  Ferses. 


FowY   times   Cupid's    debtor   I  — 
Bankrupt    in    quadruplicate. 
Yet,    despite   this    evil   case, 
An    a    maiden    showed    me    grace, 
Four  -  and  -  forty   times    would   I 
Sing   the    Lovers'    Litany  :  — 
"  Love    like   ours   can   never   die  I " 


A  Ballad  of  Burial.  131 


A    BALLAD    OF  BURIAL. 

{"Saint   P raxed' s   ever  ixas  the  Church  for  peace.'') 

TF   down   here    I   chance   to   die, 

Solemnly    1    beg   you   take 
All   that   is   left  of   "I" 

To   the   Hills   for   old    sake's   sake. 
Pack   me    very   thoroughly 

In   the   ice   that   used   to   slake 
Pegs    I    drank  Avhen    I   Avas    dry  — 

This   observe    for   old   sake's   sake. 

To   the   railway   station   hie, 
There   a   single    ticket   take 

For    Umballa  —  goods  -  train  —  I 
Shall   not   mind    dela,y   or   shake. 

I   shall    rest   contentedly 

Spite    of   clamor   coolies    make ; 


132  other  Verses. 

Thus   in   state    and   dignity 

Send   me   up   for   old   sake's   sake. 

Next   the   sleepy    Babu   wake, 

Book   a   Kalka   van    "  for   four." 
Few,   I   think,    will   care   to   make 

Journeys    with   me   any    more 
As   they   used   to    do   of   yore. 

I   shall   need   a   "  special "   break  — 
Thing-   I    never   took    before  — 

Get   me   one   for   old   sake's   sake. 

After   that  —  arrangements   make. 

No   hotel   will   take   me   in, 
And   a   bullock's    back   would   break 
•    'Neath   the   teak    and   leaden   skin. 
Tonga   ropes   are   frail   and   thin. 

Or,    did   I   a   back  -  seat   take, 
In    a  tonga    I    might   spin,  — 

Do   your   best   for   old   sake's   sake. 


A  Ballad  of  Burial.  133 

After   that  —  your   work    is  done. 

Recollect   a   Padre   must 
Mourn   the    dear   departed   one  — 

Throw    the    ashes   and   the   dust. 
Don't   go    down    at   once.      I    trust 

You    will   find   excuse    to    "  snake 
Three   days'   casual   on   the   bust," 

Get   your   fun    for   old   sake's    sake. 

I   could   never   stand   the   Plains. 

Tliink   of   blazing   June   and   May, 
Think    of   those    September  rains 

Yearly   till   the   Judgment   Day ! 
I    should   never   rest   in   peace, 

I  should   sweat   and   lie   awake. 
Pail    me    then,    on    my    decease, 

To   the   Hills   for   old   sake's   sake. 


134  Other  l^erses. 


DIVIDED   DESThWIES. 

"TT   was  an  artless    Bandar,  and  he  danced  upon 

a   pine, 
And  much   I   wondered  how  he   lived,   and  where 

the   beast    might   dine, 
And     many,    many    other    things,    till,     o'er    my 

morning    smoke, 
I    slept  the    sleep   of    idleness    and    dreamt    that 

Bandar   spoke. 

He      said :      "  0     man     of     many    clothes !      Sad 

crawler   on   the    Hills ! 
Observe,    I    know    not    Eanken's    shop,    nor    Ran- 

ken's    monthly   bills  ; 
I   take   no   heed    to    trousers    or    the    coats    that 

you   call   dress ; 
Nor   am    T    plagued    with    little    cards    for    little 

drinks   at   Mess. 


Divided  Dt'stiiiies.  135 

"I     steal    the    bunnia's     grain    at    morn,    at    noon 

and   eventide, 
(For    lie    is     fat    and    I    am   spare),    I    roam    the 

mountain    side, 
I   follow    no    man's    carriage,    and    no,    never    in 

my    life 
Have    I   flirted  at  Peliti's   with  another  Bandar^s 

wife. 

"0  man    of    futile   fopperies  —  unnecessary   wraps; 

I  own  no  ponies  in  the  hills,  I  drive  no  tall- 
wheeled    traps  ; 

I  buy  me  not  twelve  -  button  gloves,  '  short- 
sixes  '   eke,    or   rings, 

Nor  do  I  waste  at  Hamilton's  my  wealth  on 
'  pretty    things.' 

"  I     (juarrel     with    my     wife    at     home,    we    never 
fight    abroad  ; 
But    Mrs.    B.    has    grasped    the    fact    I    am    her 
only    lord. 


136  Other  l^erses. 

I  never  heard  of  fever  —  dumps  nor  debts  de- 
press   my    soul  ; 

And  I  pity  and  despise  you ! "  Here  he  pouched 
my    breakfast  -  roll. 

His  hide  was  very  mangy,  and  his  face  was  very  red, 
And  ever  and   anon   he    scratched  with   energy  his 

head. 
His    manners     were     not     always     nice,    but     how 

my    spirit   cried 
To    be    an    artless  Bandar  loose  upon  the  mountain 

side  ! 

So    I    answered :    ''  Gentle    Bandar,    an    inscrutable 

Decree 
Makes    thee    a   gleesome   fleasome    Thou,  and   me  a 

wretched   Me. 
Go !    Depart    in    peace,    my    brother,    to    thy   home 

amid   the    pine ; 
Yet    forget    not    once    a   mortal   wished   to    change 

his   lot    with    thine." 


The  Masque  of  Plenty  137 


777^   MASQUE   OF  PLENTY. 

Argument.  —  The  Indian  Government,  being  minded  to  discover  the 
economic  condition  of  their  lands,  sent  a  Committee  to  inquire  into  it; 
and  saw  that  it  was  good. 

ScEKE.  —  The  wooded  heights  of  Simla.  The  Incar- 
nation of  the  Government  of  India  in  the 
raiment  of  the  Angel  of  Plenty  sings,  to  jjiano- 
forte   accomjHmiment :  — 

"  "pirOW   sweet   is    the    shepherd's    sweet   life ! 

From    the    dawn   to   the    even   he    strays  — 
He   shall    follow   his    sheep   all   the    day, 

And   his    tongue    shall   be    tilled   with    praise. 

{Adagio    dim.)   Filled    with    praise ! " 

{Largeyido   con   sp.)  Now   this    is    the    position, 
Go   make    an   inquisition 
Into    their   real   condition 
As   swiftly   as   ye    may. 


138  Other  l^crses. 

(]}.)  Ay,    paint   our   swarthy   billions 
The    richest   of   vermilions 
Ere    two    well -led   cotillions 
Have    danced    themselves   away. 

Turkish    Patrol,    as   able   and    intelligent   Investi- 
gators  udnd   doivn    the   Himalayas:  — 

What    is    the    state    of    the   Nation  ?      What   is   its 

occupation  ? 
Hi  !     get    along,     get    along,    get    along  —  lend   us 

the    information  ! 

(Dun.)     Census   the  bgle  and  the   ijabn — capture  a 

first-class    Babu, 
Set    him    to    cut    Gazetteers  —  Gazetteers    .     .     . 

iff-)  What  is  the  state  of  the  Nation,  etc.,  etc. 

Interlude,  from  Nowhere  in  Particular,  to  stringed 
and    Oriental   instrnments. 

Our   cattle    reel    beneath    the    yoke   they    bear  — 
The   earth    is  iron,    and    the    skies   are   brass  — 


The  Masque  of  Plenty.  139 

And  faint   with   fervor   of   the   flaming   air 
The    languid  hours    pass. 

The    well    is   dry   beneath   the   village   tree  — 

The     young     wheat     withers     ere      it      reach     a 
span, 
And   belts    of   blinding   sand   show    cruelly 
Where  once   the    river   ran. 

Pray,    brothers,    pray,    but    to    no   earthly    King  — 
Lift   up   your   hands    above    the    blighted   grain, 
Look    westward  —  if    they    })lease,    the    Gods    shall 
bring 
Their   mercy   with   the  rain. 

Look   westward  —  bears    the    blue    no   brown   cloud- 
bank  ? 
Nay,    it   is   written  —  wherefore    should    we    fly? 
On    our    own    field    and    l)y    our    cattle's    flank 
Lie   down,    lie    down    to    die ! 


I40  Other  yerses. 

Semi  -  Chorus. 

By   the    plumed   heads   of   Kings 

Waving  high, 
Where   the   tall   corn   springs 

O'er   the   dead. 

If  they   rust   or   rot   we   die, 

If   they   ripen   we   are   fed. 

Very    mighty   is   the   power   of   our   Kings ! 

Trimnphal  return  to  Simla  of  the  Investigator's, 
attired  after  the  manner  of  Dionysus,  leading  a 
■pet  tiger -cuh  in  wreaths  of  rhubarb  leaves,  sym- 
bolical of  India  under  medical  treatment.  They 
sing :  — 

We    have    seen,    we    have    written  —  behold    it,    the 

proof   of   our    manifold   toil ! 
In   their   hosts   they    assembled    and    told    it  —  the 

tale   of   the   sons   of  the   soil. 


The  Masque  of  Plenty.  141 

We  have  said  of  the  Sickness,  "Where  is   it?"  — 

and   of   Death,    "  It   is    far  from   our   ken ; " 
We    have   paid    a   particuhar   visit    to    the    affluent 

chiklren    of   men. 
We   have   trodden   the    mart   and   the    well  -  curb  — 

we   have    stooped   to    the    bield   and   tlie    b^^re ; 
And   the    King   may   the   forces   of   Hell    curb,    for 

the   People   have   all  they    desire ! 

Castanets   and   step  -  dance  : 

Oh,    the   dovi    and    the    mag   and    the    thakur   and 
the    tliag, 

And  the   nat   and   the   hrmjaree, 
And   the    hunnia   and    the    ryot   are   as    happy   and 
as   quiet 

And   as    plump   as   they   can   be ! 
Yes,  the  jain  and  the  jat  in  his  stucco-fronted  hut, 

And   the    bounding   hazugar, 
By  the  favor  of  the  King,  are  as   fat  as  anything, 

They   are  —  they   are  —  they   are  ! 


142  other  yerses. 

Recitative,    Government  of  India,  with  white  satin 
ivings  and  electroplated   harp:  — 

How  beautiful  upou  the  mountaius  —  in  peace 
reclining, 

Thus  to  be  assured  that  our  people  are  unani- 
mously   dining. 

And  though  there  are  places  not  so  blessed  as 
others  in  natural  advantages,  which,  after  all, 
was    only   to    be    expected, 

Proud  and  glad  are  we  to  congratulate  you  upon 
the    work    you   have    thus    ably    effected. 

( Cres.)     How   be  -  ewtif ul    upon    the    mountains  ! 

Hired    Band,    brasses  o/di/,  full  chorus:  — 

God   bless   the    Squire 
And    all    his    rich    relations 
Who   teach   us    poor   people 
We    eat   our   proper    rations  — 
.     We    eat    our    proper    rations, 
In    spite    of   inundations, 


The  Masque  of  Plenty.  143 

Malarial    exhalations, 

And   casual   starvations, 
We   have,   we   have,   they    say   we   have  — 
We    have   our   proper   rations !  ^ 

(^Cornet.) 

Which    nobody    can  deny ! 

If   he   does   he   tells   a   lie  — 

We  are  all  as  willing  as  Barkis  — 
We  all  of  us  loves  the  INIarkiss  — 
We   all    of   us    stuffs    our   ca-ar-kis  — 

With   food   until    we    die !     {Da   capo.) 

Chorus   of   the   Crystallized   Facts. 

Before    the   beginning   of   years 

There   came    to   the    rule   of   the   State 

Men   with   a   pair  of   shears. 

Men    with   an    Estimate  — 

Strachey    with    Muir    for   leaven, 

Lytton    with   locks    that   fell, 


144  Other  yerses. 

Ripon   fooling   Avith   Heaven, 

And   Temple   riding   like   H-11 ! 

And  the  bigots   took   in   hand 

Cess   and   the   falling   of  rain, 

And   the   measure   of   sifted   sand 

The   dealer   puts    in   the   grain  — 

Imports   by   land   and   sea, 

To   uttermost    decimal    worth, 

And  registration  —  free  — 

In   the   houses   of   death   and  of   birth : 

And   fashioned   with   pens   and   paper, 

And  fashioned   in  black  and   white, 

With   Life   for   a   flickering  taper 

And   Death   for   a   blazing   light  — 

With   the   Armed   and   the    Civil   Power, 

That   his    strength   might   endure   for   a   span, 

From  Adam's   Bridge   to   Peshawur, 

The   Much   Administered   man. 

In   the   towns   of   the   North   and   the    East, 
They   gathered  as  unto   rule, 


The  Masque  of  Plenty.  145 

They   bade   him   starve   the   priest 

And   send   his    children    to   schooh 

Railways   and   roads    they    wrought, 

For   the    needs   of   the    soil   within ; 

A   time   to   squabble    in    court, 

A   time   to   bear   and    to    grin. 

And   gave    him    peace    in    his   w^ays, 

Jails  —  and   Police   to   fight, 

Justice   at   length   of   days, 

And    Right  —  and    Might   in  tlie    Right. 

His   speech  is   of   mortgaged   bedding, 

On   his  kine  he  borrows  yet, 

At  his   heart   is   his  daughter's  wedding. 

In    his   eye   foreknowledge   of   debt. 

He   eats   and   hath   indigestion. 

He   toils   and   he    may   not   stop ; 

His   life   is   a   long-drawn    question 

Between   a  crop   and   a   crop. 


146  other  l^erses. 


THE    MARE'S   NEST. 

TANE   Austen    Beecher   Stowe   de   Rouse 
Was    good   beyond    all   earthly    need ; 
But,  on    the    other   hand,  her   spouse 

Was    very,  very    bad   indeed. 
He    smoked   cigars,  called  churches  slow. 
And    raced  —  but    this    she    did   not   know, 

For  Belial   Machiavelli   kept 

The  little  fact  a  secret,  and. 
Though   o'er  his    minor   sins    she   wept, 

Jane  Austen    did   not   understand 
That    Lilly  —  thirteen -two    and   bay  — 
Absorbed   one  half   her  husband's  pay. 

She  was  so  good,   she  made   him   worse ; 
(Some  women   are  like   this,   I   think ;) 


The  Mare's  Nest.  147 

He   taught   her   parrot    how    to    curse, 
Her   Assam    monkey    how  to   drink. 
He  vexed    her    righteous    soul    until 
She   went   up,    and    he    went    down    hill. 

Then    came    the    crisis,    strange    to"  say. 
Which   turned   a    good   wife  to    a   better. 

A   telegraphic    peon,  one    day, 

Brought  her  —  now,  had   it  been  a  letter 

For    Belial    Machiavelli,    I 

Know    Jane    would   just    have   let    it    lie. 

But  'twas  a   telegram   instead. 

Marked   "urgent,"  and   her   duty   plain 

To   open   it.      Jane    Austen   read :  — 
"Your    Lilly's    got   a   cough   again. 

Can't   understand    why    she    is    kept 

At   your   expense."      Jane   Austin    wept. 

It   was   a   misdirected    wire. 

Her   husband   was    at   Shaitanpore. 


4^8  Other  l^erses. 

She   spread   her   anger,    hot   as   fire, 

Through    six   thin    foreign    sheets   or   more, 
Sent    off   that   letter,    wrote   another 
To   lier   solicitor  —  and    mother. 

Then    Belial    Machiavelli   saw 

Her   error   and,    I   trust,    his    own, 
Wired   to   the    minion    of   the    Law, 

And   travelled   wifeward  —  not   alone. 
For   Lilly  —  thirteen- two   and   bay  — 
Came    in   a   horse-box   all   the   way. 

There  was   a   scene  —  a  weep   or   two  — 
With    many   kisses.     Austen    Jane 

Rode    Lilly   all    the    season   through, 
And    never   opened   wires    again. 

She  races   now   with   Belial.      This 

Is   very  sad,  but   so   it   is. 


Possibilities.  149 


POSSIBILITIES. 

A  Y,   lay   him   'neath   the    Simla   pine- 

A   fortnight   fully   to   be   missed, 
Behold,    we   lose    our   fourth   at   whist, 
A   chair   is   vacant   where   we   dine. 


His   place   forgets   him ;    other   men 

Have   bought   his    ponies,    guns,    and   traps. 
His   fortune   is    the    Great   Perhaps 

And   that   cool   rest-house   down   the   glen, 

Whence   he   shall   hear,   as    spirits   may. 
Our   mundane    revel   on   the   height, 
Shall    watch   each   flashing   'r/cA's7«aw- light 

Sweep   on   to   dinner,   dance,    and   play. 


150  other  yt'rses. 

Benmore   shall   woo   him  to   the   ball 
With  lighted   rooms   and   braying   band, 
And   he   shall   hear   and   understand 

"Bream   Faces''    better   than   us    all. 

For,   think   you,    as   the   vapors   flee 
Across    Sanjaolie   after   rain, 
His   soul    may    climb   the   hill   again 

To   each   old   field   of   victory. 

Unseen,   who   women   held   so   dear. 

The    strong   man's   yearn.ing   to   his   kind 
Shall    shake   at    most   the   window -blind. 

Or   dull   awhile   the   card -room's   cheer. 

In  his  own  place  of  power  unknown. 
His  Light  o'  Love  another's  flame. 
His   dearest   pony    galloped   lame. 

And   he   an   alien   and   alone. 


Possibilities.  151 

Yet  may  he  meet  with  many  a  friend  — 
Shrewd  shadows,  lingering  long  unseen 
Among   us   when    '■'■God   save   the    Queen''^ 

Shows  even    "  extras "   have   an   end. 


And,    when    Ave   leave    the    heated   room, 
And,    wlien    at   four   the    lights    expire. 
The    crew   shall    gather    round   the    fire 

And    mock    our   laughter   in   the    gloom. 

Talk   as    we    talked,    and   they   ere    death 
First   wanly,    dance    in    ghostly    wise, 
With    ghosts   of   tunes    for   melodies, 

And   vanish   at   the    morning's    breath. 


152  other  Verses. 


CHRIS  TAT  AS    IN    INDIA. 

T^IM    dawn    behind    the    tamarisks  —  the    sky   is 
saffron  -  yellow  — 
As   the   women   in   the    village    grind   the    corn, 
And   the    parrots    seek  the   river -side,   each   calling 
to   his   fellow 
That  the  Da}^,  the  staring  Eastern  Day  is  born. 
Oh   the  white  dust    on   the    highway !     Oh   the 
stenches    in   the   byway ! 
Oh  the  clammy  fog   that   hovers  over  earth! 
And    at    Home    they're    making    merry   'neath 
the    white   and    scarlet    berry  — 
What  part  have  India's  exiles  in  their  mirth? 

Full   day   behind   the   tamarisks  —  the    sky   is   blue 
and   staring  — 
As   the   cattle   crawl   atield   beneath   the   yoke, 


Christmas  in  India.  153 

And    they   bear   One    o'er    the    field -path,    who    is 
past   all    hope    or   caring, 
To  the  ghiU  below  the  curling  wreaths  of  smoke. 
Call    on    Rama,    going    slowly,    as    ye    bear    a 
brother   lowly  — 
Call  on   Kama  —  he   may   hear,   perhaps,  your 
voice ! 
With    our    hymn-books    and    our    psalters    we 
appeal    to    other   altars. 
And    to  -  dav    we    bid   "  good    Christian    men 


rejoice 


I " 


High  noon    behind    the  tamarisks  —  the   sun   is  hot 
above    us  — 
As  at  Home  the  Christmas  Day  is  breaking  wan. 
They  will  drink   our  healths  at  dinner  —  those  who 
tell    us    how    they    love    us, 
And    forget   us    till    another   year   be    gone ! 

Oh    the    toil    that     knows     no    breaking !     Oh 
the    Heimweh,   ceaseless,    aching ! 


154  Other  Verses. 

Oh  the   black   dividing  Sea  and   alien  Plain ! 
Youth     was      cheap  —  wherefore     we     sold     it. 
Gold   was    good  —  we    hoped    to    hold    it, 
And    to-day    we    know   the    fulness    of    our 
gain. 

Gray   dusk   behind   the  tamarisks  —  the   parrots  fly 
together  — 
As    the    sun    is    sinking   slowly   over   Home ; 
And   his   last   ray    seems   to   mock    us   shackled   in 
a   lifelong   tether 
That     drags      us      back      howe'er      so      far     we 
roam. 

Hard    her   service,    poor   her   payment  —  she   in 
ancient,    tattered   raiment  — 
India,    she     the      grim     Stepmother    of    our 
kind. 
If  a  year  of   life   be   lent  hei',   if   her  temple's 
shrine    we    enter, 
The  door  is  shut  —  we  may  not  look  behind. 


Chris/ mas  in  Iiniia.  155 

Black     night     behind     the     tamarisks  —  the      owls 
begin    their   chorus  — 
As   the    conches    from    the    temjjle    scream    and 
bray. 
With     the     fruitless     years     behind     us,    and     the 
hopeless    3'ears    before   us, 
Let   us    honor,    0    my    brothers,    Christmas    Day ! 
Call     a    truce,    then,    to     our     labors  —  let    us 
feast   with   friends   and   neighbors. 
And   be   merry  as  the   custom   of   our  caste ; 
For   if   "faint   and    forced    the    laughter,"    and 
if   sadness    follow   after, 
We   are    richer    by   one    mocking    Christmas 
past. 


^^56 


Other  l^erses. 


PAGETT,    M.P. 

The  toad  beneath  the  liarrow  knows 
Exactly  where  each  tooth  -  point  goes. 
The  butterfly  upon  the  road 
Preaches  contentment  to  that  toad. 

TDAGETT,    M.  P.,    was    a   liar,    and    a    fluent    liar 

tlierewith,  — 
He    spoke   of   the    heat    of    India    as    the    "  Asian 

Solar   Myth;" 
Came    on    a    four     months'    visit,    to    '*  study    the 

East,"    in    November, 
And   I   got   him    to   sign   an    agreement   vowing   to 

stay   till    September. 


Marcii   came    in   with    the    ko'il.     Pagett   was    cool 

and  gay, 
Called   me   a    "  bloated    Brahmin,"    talked    of    my 

"  princely    pay." 


Pagett,  M.P.  157 

March     went     out     with     the     roses.      "Where     is 

your   heat  ?  "    said   he. 
"Coming,"    said    I    to    Pagett.       "Skittles!"     said 

Pagett,   M.P. 

April  began  with  the  punkah,  coolies,  and  prickly- 
heat,  — 

Pagett  was  dear  to  mosquitoes,  sandflies  found 
him    a  treat. 

He  grew  speckled  and  lumpy  —  hammered,  I 
grieve   to   say, 

Aryan  brothers  who  fanned  him,  in  an  illiberal  way. 

May  set  in  with  a  dust  -  storm,  —  Pagett  went 
down   with   the    sun. 

All  the  delights  of  the  season  tickled  him  one  by  one. 

Imprimis  —  ten  days'  "liver"  —  due  to  his  drink- 
ing  beer; 

Later,  a  dose  of  fever  —  slight,  but  he  called  it 
severe. 


158  other  yerses. 

Dysent'ry    touched   him    in   June,    after    the    Chota 

Bursat  — 
Lowered    his    portly    person — made    him    yearn   to 

depart. 
He    didn't   call    me    a    "Brahmin,"    or     "bloated," 

or   "overpaid," 
But  seemed  to  think  it  a  wonder  that  any  one  stayed. 

July    was     a     trifle     unhealthy,  —  Pagett     was     ill 

with   fear, 
'Called  it   the    "Cholera   Morbus,"  hinted  that   life 

was   dear. 
He     babbled    of    "Eastern    exile,"    and    mentioned 

his    home  *  with    tears  ; 
But   I    hadn't    seen    mij    children    for    close    upon 

seven    years. 

We   reached   a    hundred    and    twenty   once    in    the 

Court   at    noon, 
(I've    mentioned   Pagett    was    portly)    Pagett    went 

off  in     a   swoon. 


Paget t,  M.P.  159 

That    was    an    end    to    the    business ;    Pagett,    the 

perjured,    fled 
With   a    practical,    working    knowledge    of    '■  Solar 

Myths ''    in    his   head. 

And    I    laughed   as    I    drove    from    the   station,    but 

the    mirth    died   out   on    my   li])S 
As   I  thought  of   the  fools  like  I'agett  who    write 

of   their    "  Eastern    trips," 
And   the    sneers   of   the   travelled   idiots    who   duly 

misgovern   the   land, 
And   I   prayed  to  the  Lord  to  deliver  another  one 

into   my   hand. 


i6o  Other  l^erses. 


THE    SONG     OF     THE     WOMEN. 

{Lady  DufferMs  Fund  for  medical  aid  to   the    Women  of  India.) 

XirOW   shall   she   know    the    worship    we    would 
do   her? 
The   walls   are    high,   and   she   is   very   far. 
How   shall   the   women's    message    reach    unto   her 
Above   the   tumult   of    the   packed   bazaar  ? 
Free     wind     of      March,     against     the     lattice 

blowing. 
Bear      thou      our      thanks,     lest      she      depart 
unknowing. 

Go  forth  across  the  fields  we  may  not  roam  in, 
Go   forth   beyond   the    trees    that    rim    the  city. 

To  whatsoe'er  fair  place  she  hath  her  home  in, 
Who   dowered  us   with  wealth  of  love  and  pity. 


The  Song  of  the  Women.  i6i 

Out    of    our   shadow   pass,   and   seek   her   sing- 
ing— 
"I  have  no  gifts  but  Love  alone  for  bringing." 

Say    that   we   be  a    feeble    folk   who   greet   her, 

But   old   in   grief,    and   very   wise    in    tears ; 
Say    that   we,    being   desolate,    entreat    her 
That   she    forget  us    not    in   after   years ; 

For    we    have    seen    the     light,    and     it    were 

grievous 
To    dim    that   dawning   if   our   lady   leave   us. 

By     life    that    ebbed     with    none    to     stanch     the 
failing. 
By    Love's    sad    harvest    garnered   in   the    spring, 
When    Love    in    ignorance    wept   unavailing 

O'er   young   buds    dead   before   their   blossoming ; 
By   all   the    gray  owl  watched,  the   pale    moon 

viewed. 
In   past   grim   years,    declare    our   gratitude  ! 


1 62  Other  Verses. 

By    hands    uplifted   to    the    Gods   that   heard   not, 

By    gifts   that   found    no   favor   in   their   sight, 
By    faces   bent   above   the    babe   that   stirred   not. 
By    nameless    horrors    of   the    stifling    night ; 
By  ills    foredone,  by  peace   her   toils    discover, 
Bid     Earth     be     good     beneath     and     Heaven 
above   her ! 

If   she    have    sent   her   servants    in   our   pain, 
If   she   have    fought  with   Death    and   dulled   his 
sword ; 
If  she   have   given   back    our   sick   again, 

And   to    the    breast    the    weakling   lips    restored, 
Is    it   a   little    thing   that   she    has    wrought  ? 
Then    Life    and    Death     and    Motherhood    be 
nought. 

Go   forth,    0    wind,    our   message   on   thy    wings, 
And    they    shall    hear   thee    pass    and    bid    thee 
speed, 


The  Song  of  the  IV omen.  163 

In    reed -roofed     hut,     or     white -walled    home     of 
kings, 
Who   have    been    helpen    by    her    in    their   need. 
All    spring   shall    gi\'e    thee    fragrance,  and    the 

wheat 
Shall   be   a  tasselled   floorcloth  to    thy   feet. 

Haste,    for     our    hearts    are     with     thee,    take    no 
rest ! 
Loud  -  voiced   ambassador,    from    sea   to    sea 
Proclaim    the    blessing,    manifold,    confest. 

Of   those    in    darkness    by  ■  her   hand    set   free, 
Then    very    softly    to    her    presence    move, 
And     whisper :     "  Lady,    lo,    they     know     and 
love  ! " 


164  Other  Verses. 


A    BALLADE    OF  JAKKO    HILL. 

r~\^Yj   moment   bid   the   horses   wait, 

Since   tiffin   is   not   laid   till   three, 
Below   the   upward   path   and   straight 

You   climbed   a   year   ago   with   me. 
Love   came   upon   us   suddenly 

And   loosed  —  an   idle   hour   to   kill  — 
A   headless,    armless   armory 

That   smote   us   both   on    Jakko   Hill. 

Ah   Heaven !   we    would   wait   and   wait 
Through   Time   and   to   Eternity ! 

Ah   Heaven !   we   could   conquer   Fate 
With   more   than    Godlike   constancy ! 

I   cut   the   date   upon   a  tree  — 

Here   stand   the    clumsy   figures   still :  — 

"10-7-85,   A.D." 

Damp   with   the   mist   on   Jakko   Hill. 


A  "Ballade  of  Jakko  Hill.  165 

What   came   of   high    resolve    and   great, 

And   until    Death    fidelity  ? 
Whose   horse   is    waiting  at   your   gate  ? 

Whose   ^rickshaw -\\\\eQ\Q    ride    over   me? 
No   Saint's,    I   swear ;    and  —  let   nie    see 

To-night   what   names   your   programme    fill  — 
We   drift   asunder   merrily, 

As   drifts   the   mist   on    Jakko   Hill !  • 

l'exvoi. 

Princess,   behold   our   ancient   state 

Has   clean    departed ;    and   we   see 
'Twas   Idleness   we    took   for   Fate 

That   bound   light   bonds   on   you   and   me. 
Amen  !  .  Here   ends   the   comedy 

Where    it   began  in   all   good   will ; 
Since    Love   and   Leave   together   flee 

As   driven   mist   on    Jakko   Hill ! 


1 66  Other  Verses. 


THE     PLEA    OF    THE    SIMLA    DANCERS. 

Too  late,  alas!  the  song 

To  remedy  the  wrong ;  — 
The  rooms  are  taken  from  us,  swept  and  garnished  for  their  fate. 

But  these  tear  -  besprinkled  pages 

Shall  attest  to  future  ages 
That  we  cried  against  the  crime  of  it  —  too  late,  alas!  too  late! 

"  "TTTHAT    have     we     ever     done     to     bear     this 
grudge  ?  " 

Was   there   no   room    save   only    in    Benmore 
For   docket,  duftar,   and   for   office    drudge, 

That   you   usurp  our   smoothest   dancing   floor  ? 
Must   babus   do   their   work   on    polished   teak  ? 

Are   ball  -  rooms   fittest    for   the   ink   you   spill  ? 
Was   there   no   other   cheaper   house   to   seek  ? 

You  might  have  left  them  all  at  Strawberry  Hill. 

We   never   harmed   you !     Innocent   our   guise, 
Dainty   our   shining   feet,   our   voices   low ; 


The  Plea  of  the  Simla  Dancers.  167 

And   we   revolved   to   divers   melodies, 
And   we   were   happy   but   a   year   ago. 

To-night,    the    moon    that   watched    our   lightsome 
wiles  — 
That    beamed    upon    us   through    the    deodars  — 

Is    wan    with    gazing   on    official    files, 

And   desecrating   desks    disgust   the    stars. 

Nay  !    by   the    memory    of   tuneful    nights  — 

Kay !    by   the    witchery    of   flying   feet  — 
Nay !    by    the    glamour   of   fordone    delights  — 

By    all    things    merry,    musical,    and    meet  — 
By    wine   that   sparkled,    and   by   sparkling   eyes  — 

By  wailing  waltz  —  by  reckless    gallop's    strain  — 
By   dim   verandas   and   by   soft    replies, 

Give    us    our   ravished   ball-room    back   again! 

Or  —  hearken    to   the    curse    we   lay   on   you  ! 

The   ghosts   of  waltzes   shall   perplex   your  brain, 
And    murmurs    of   past    merriment   pursue 

Your  'wildered  clerks   that    they   indite  in    vain ; 


1 68  Other  Verses. 

And,     when      you      count      your     poor      Provincial 
millions, 

The   only    figures   that   your   pen    shall   frame 
Shall    be    the    figures    of   dear,    dear   cotillions 

Danced   out   in   tumult    long   before   you   came. 

Yea!    ^^  See   Saiv^'   shall    upset   your   estimates, 

'' Dreavi,  Faces^'   shall  your  heavy  heads    bemuse. 
Because   your   hand,   unheeding,    desecrates 

Our   temple ;    fit    for   higher,   worthier   use. 
And   all    the    long   verandas,    eloquent 

With   echoes   of   a   score   of   Simla  years, 
Shall    plague    you    with    unbidden    sentiment  — 

Babbling   of   kisses,    laughter,    love,   and   tears. 

So   shall   you   mazed   amid   old   memories   stand, 
So      shall      you      toil,     and      shall      accomplish 
nought. 

And   ever    in   your    ears   a   phantom    Band 
Shall   blare   away   the   staid   official   thought. 


The  Plea  of  the  Simla  Dancers-.  169 

Wherefore  —  and   ere   this   awful   curse   be   spoken, 
Cast   out   your   swarthy    sacrilegious   train, 

And     give  —  ere     dancing     cease     and     hearts      be 
broken  — 
Give   us   our   ravished   ball  -  room   back   again  ! 


170  other  Verses. 


BALLAD   OF  FISHER'S  BOARDING-HOUSE. 

That  night,  when  through  the  mooring -chains 

The  wide  -  eyed  corpse  rolled  free, 
To  blunder  down  by  Garden  Reach 

And  rot  at  Kedgeree, 
The  tale  the  Hughli  told  the  shoal 

The  lean  shoal  told  to  me. 

'rpwAS   Fultah   Fisher's   boarding-house 

Where    sailor  -  men   reside, 
And   there   Avere    men    of   all   the    ports 

From    Mississip   to   Clyde, 
And    regally    they    spat   and   smoked, 

And    fearsomely    they    lied. 

They   lied   about   the   purple    Sea 

That   gave    them    scanty    bread. 
They   lied   about   the    Earth    beneath, 

The    Heavens    overhead, 
For    they    had    looked   too   often   on 

Black    rum    when    that   was    red. 


Ballad  of  Fisher's  Boar  ding- House.         171 

They   told   their  tales   of   wreck   and  wrong, 

Of   shame   and  lust   and   fraud, 
They    backed   their   toughest   statements    with 

The    Brimstone   of   the    Lord, 
And   crackling   oaths   went   to    and   fro 

Across    the   list -banged   board. 

And   there   was    Hans   the   blue -eyed   Dane, 

Bull  -  throated,    bare    of    arm, 
Who   carried   on   his    hairy   chest 

The   maid    Ultruda's  charm  — 
The    little   silver   crucifix 

That  keeps   a   man  from   harm. 

And   there   was   Jake   Without  -  the  -  Ears, 

And   Pamba  the   Malay, 
And    Carboy   Gin   the    Guinea   cook, 

And    Luz   from    Vigo   Bay, 
And    Honest   Jack    who    sold   them   slops 

And   harvested   their   pay. 


172  Other  yerses. 

And   there   was    Salem   Hardieker, 

A   lean   Bostonian   he  — 
Euss,    German,   English,    Halfbreed,  Finn, 

Yank,    Dane,   and    Portugee, 
At   Fultah   Fisher's   boarding-house 

They   rested   from   the   sea. 

Now   Anne    of   Austria   shared    their   drinks, 

Collinga   knew   her   fame, 
From  Tarnau   in    Galicia 

To   Jaun    Bazar   she   came, 
To   eat   the    bread   of   infamy 

And   take   the   wage   of   shame. 

She    held   a   dozen   men   to   heel  — 

Rich   spoil    of   war   was   hers. 
In   hose   and   gown   and   ring   and   chain, 

From    twenty    mariners, 
Ajid,    by  Port   Law,    that   week,    men   called 

Her   Salem    Hardieker's. 


Ballad  of  Fisher's  Boarding -House.         173 

But   seamen   learnt  —  what   landsmen   know  — 

That   neither   gifts    nor    gain 
Can  hold   a    winking    Light   o'    Love 

Or   Fancy's   flight    restrain, 
When   Anne   of   Austria   rolled   her   eyes 

On   Hans   the   blue -eyed  Dane. 

Since    Life   is    strife,    and   strife    means   knife, 

From  Howrah  to  the  Bay, 
And   he    may    die    before    the    dawn 

Who  liquored  out  the  day. 
In   Fultah    Fisher's    boarding-house 

We   woo   while    yet   we    may. 

But   cold  was    Hans   the   blue -eyed   Dane, 

Bull -throated,    bare    of   arm. 
And   laughter   shook    the    chest   beneath 

The   maid    Ultruda's   charm  — 
The    little    silver   crucifix 

That   keeps   a   man  from    harm. 


174  Other  Ferses. 

"You   speak   to   Salem    Hardieker, 

You    was    his    girl,    I    know. 
I    ship   mineselfs    to-morrow,    see, 

Und    round   the    8kaw    we    go. 
South,    down    the    Cattegat,    by    Hjelm, 

To   Besser   in    Saro." 

When   love    rejected   turns    to   hate, 
All    ill    betide    the    man. 
"You   speak   to    Salem    Hardieker"  — 
She   spoke    as    woman    can. 
A  scream  —  a  sob  —  "  He   called  me  —  names  !  " 
And    then    the    fray    began. 

An  oath    from    Salem   Hardieker, 

A   shriek    upon   the    stairs, 
A    dance    of    shadows    on    the    wall, 

A   knife  -  thrust   unawares  — 
And   Hans   came   down,   as  cattle   drop. 

Across    the    broken    chairs. 


Ballad  of  Fisher's  Boarding- House.         175 

In  Anne    of   Austria's   trembling    hands 

The    weary   head    fell    low :  — 
"I   ship    rnineselfs    to-morrow,   straight 

For   Besser   in    Saro : 
Und   there    Ultruda   comes    to    me 

At  Easter,    und   I   go 

''  South,    down   the    Cattegat  —      What's    here  ? 

There  —  are  —  no  —  lights  —  to  —  guide  !  " 
The   mutter  ceased,    the    spirit    passed, 

And   Anno   of    Austria   cried 
In   Fultah    Fisher's   boarding-house 

When  Hans   the  mighty   died. 

Thus   slew   they    Hans    the   blue -eyed    Dane, 

Bull  -  throated,    bare   of   arm. 
But    Anne    of    Austria   looted    first 

The    maid    Ultruda's  charm  — 
The    little    silver    crucifix 

That    keeps    a    man    from    harm. 


176  other  Verses, 


''AS     THE    BELL     CLINKS.'' 

A  S  I  left  the  Halls  at  Lumley,  rose  the 
vision   of   a    comely 

Maid  last  season  worshipped  dumbly,  watched  with 
fervor   from   afar ; 

And  I  wondered  idly,  blindly,  if  the  maid  would 
greet  me   kindly. 

That  was  all  —  the  rest  was  settled  by  the  clink- 
ing   tonga -bar. 

Yea,  my  life  and  hers  were  coupled  by  the  tonga 
coupling  -  bar. 

For  my  misty  meditation,  at  the  second  changing- 
station. 

Suffered  sudden  dislocation,  fled  before  the  tune- 
less  jar 

Of  a  Wagner  ohhligato,  scherzo,  double -hand  stac- 
cato. 


"As  the  Bell  Clinks,"  177 

Played   on    either    pony's    saddle    by   the    clacking 

tonga  -  bar  — 
Played    with     human     speech,    I     fancied,    by    the 

jigging?    jolting    bar. 

'•'She    was    sweet,"    thought    I,    "last    season,    but 

'twere    surely    wild   unreason 
Such   tiny   hope   to    freeze    on    as  was    offered    by 

my   Star, 
When   she   whispered,   something   sadly  :  —  'I  —  we 

feel  your  going  badly  ! '  " 
"And  you   let  the  chance  escape   i/ou?^'    rapped  the 

rattling   tonga- bar. 
*  What   a    chance    and    what    an    idiot  I  "      clicked 

the  vicious  tonga- bar. 

Heart  of   man  —  oh,  heart  of   putty!      Had   I  gone 

by  Kakahutti, 
On    the    old    Hill -road    and    rutty,    I    had    'scaped 

that    fatal    car, 


1 78  Other  Verses. 

But  his  fortune  each  must  bide  by,  so  I 
watched    the    milestones    slide    by, 

To  ^'- You  call  on  Her  to-morrow!''^  —  fugue  with 
cymbals   by   the    bar  — 

^'-  You  must  call  on  Her  to-morrow!^''  —  post -horn 
gallop   by  the    bar. 

Yet  a  further  stage  my  goal  on  —  we  were  whirl- 
ing  down   to    Solon, 

With  a  double  lurch  and  roll  on,  best  foot  fore- 
most, (janz    und   gar  — 

"She  was  verij  sweet,"  I  hinted.  "If  a  kiss  had 
been   imprinted  —  ?  " 

" '  Would  ha'  saved  a  world  of  trouble !  "  clashed 
the    busy  tonga -bar. 

"  ^Been  accepted  or  rejected !  "  banged  and  clanged 
the  tonga -bar. 

Then   a   notion   wild   and    daring,  'spite  the  income 

tax's    paring, 
And    a  hasty  thought  of   sharing  —  less  than   many 

incomes  are, 


"As  the  Bell  Clinks."  179 

Made   me   put   a   question   private,    you   can    guess 

what    I    would    drive    at. 
"  You   must   tcork    the    stun    to    jyrove,    it^''     clanked 

the   careless   tonga -bar. 
"  Shnijle   Rule   of  Two   will  pi'ove   it,''    lilted    back 

the   tonga  -  bar. 

It  was    under    Khyraghaut    I    mused  :  —  "  Suppose 

the   maid   be   haughty  — 
(There    are    lovers     rich  —  and    forty)  —  wait    some 

wealthy  Avatar  ? 
Answer,  monitor   untiring,  'twixt    the    ponies  twain 


perspiring 


t  " 


"  Faint    heart    never    2vo)i  fair    lady,"    creaked    the 

straining   tonga  -  bar. 
"Can  I  tell  you   ere  you  ask  Her?''  pounded  slow 

the   tonga- bar. 

Last,    the   Tara    Devi    turning    showed    the    lights 

of    Simla   burning. 
Lit  my  little  lazy  yearning  to  a  fiercer  flame  by  far. 


i8o  Other  l^erses. 

As  below  the  INIall  we  jing-led,  through  my  very 
heart   it   tingled  — 

Did  the  iterated  order  of  the  threshing  tonga- 
bar  — 

'■^  Try  yoiir  luck — you  caii't  do  better !  ^^  twanged 
the    loosened   tonga -bar. 


An  Old  Song. 


AN    OLD    SONG. 

OO   long  as  'ueath  the   Kalka   hills 

The   tonga -horn    shall   ring, 
So   long   as   down   the    Solon    dip 

The   hard -held   ponies   swing, 
So   long   as   Tara   Devi   sees 

The   lights   o'   Simla  town, 
So  long   as   Pleasure   calls   us   up, 

And   duty    drives   us   down, 

If  you   love   me  as   I  love   you, 
What  pair  so  hajypy   as   ive   two  ? 

So   long   as    Aces   take   the   King, 

Or   backers   take   the   bet. 
So   long   as   debt   leads    men   to    wed. 

Or   marriage    leads   to    debt, 
So  long   as   little  luncheons.    Love, 

And  scandal   hold   their   vogue, 


i82  Other  l^erses. 

While   there   is    sport   at   Annandale 
Or   whiskey   at   Jutogh, 

If  you   love   vie   as   I  love  you, 

What   knife   can   cut   our   love   in   two  ? 

So   long   as    down  the   rocking   floor 

The   raving   polka   spins, 
So   long   as   Kitchen   Lancers   spur 

The    maddened   violins, 
So    long   as   through   the   whirling   smoke 

We   hear   the   oft  -  told  tale  :  — 
"Twelve    hundred   in   the    Lotteries," 

And    Whatshernaine   for   sale  ? 
If  you    love   me   as   I  love   you, 
We'll  play   the   game   and   ivin   it   too. 

So   long   as   Lust   or   Lucre   tempt 
Straight   riders   from   the   course, 

So   long   as    with    each    drink   we   pour 
Black   brewage   of   Remorse, 


An  Old  Song.  183 

So   long   as   those   unloaded   guns 

We   keep   beside   the   bed 
Blow   off,   by   obvious   accident, 
The   lucky   owner's   head, 

If  you    love   me   as   I  love   you, 
What   can   Life   kill   or   Death   undo  ? 

So   long   as    Death   'twixt   dance   and   dance 

Chills   best   and   bravest   blood, 
And   drops   the   reckless    rider   down 

The   rotten,    rain -soaked    kJmd, 
So   long   as    rumors    from    the    North 

Make   loving   Avives   afraid, 
So   long   as   Burma  takes   the    boy 

And   typhoid   kills   the  maid, 
If  you    love   me    as    I  love   you, 
What   knife   can   cut   our   love   in   two? 

By  all   that   lights   our   daily    life 
Or    works   our   lifelong   woe, 


184  other  Verses. 

From   Boileangunge   to   Simla   Downs 

And    those  grim    glades    below, 
Where,   heedless   of   the  flying   hoof 

And   clamor  overhead, 
Sleep,   with   the   gray   langur   for   guard, 
Our   very   scornful    Dead, 

If  you    love   me   as   I  love  you, 
All   Earth    is   servant   to  us   two? 

By   Docket,    Billetdoux,    and   File, 

By   Mountain,    Cliff,    and    Fir, 
By   Fan   and   Sword   and   Office -box, 

By   Corset,    Plume,    and    Spur, 
By    Eiot,    Revel,    Waltz,    and   War, 

By   Women,    Work,    and   Bills, 
By   all   the   life   that   fizzes   in 

The   everlasting   Hills, 

If  you    love   me  as   I  love   yo%i, 
What  jp<^h'   so   happy   as   we   two? 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafii.  185 


CERTAIN  MAXIMS  OF  HAFIZ. 

I. 

"TF    It    be    pleasant    to    look    on,    stalled    in    the 

packed  serai, 
Does    not    the    Young    Man    try    Its    temper    and 

pace   ere   he    buy  ? 
If    She    be    pleasant    to    look    on,    what    does   the 

Young   Man   say  ? 
"Lo!    She    is    pleasant    to    look    on,    give    Her   to 

me   to  -  day  !  " 

II. 
Yea,  though  a  Kafir  die,  to  him  is  remitted  Jehannum 
If    he    borrowed    in    life    from   a   native    at    sixty 

per   cent   per   annum. 

III. 
Blister  we  not  for  bursati?     So  when   the   heart  is 

vext, 

The   pain    of    one    maiden's   refusal   is   drowned   in 

the   pain   of   the   next. 


i86  Other  Verses. 

IV. 

The  temper  of   chums,  the  love  of  your  wife,  and 

a   new   piano's   tune  — 
Whicli    of    the    three   will    you    trust    at    the    end 

of   an   Indian   June  ? 

V. 

Who   are    the   rulers   of    Ind  —  to   whom   shall   we 

bow   the   knee  ? 
Make   your   peace   with   the   women,  and   men  will 

make   you   L.   G. 

VI. 

Does   the  woodpecker  flit  round  the  young  f crash? 

Does   grass   clothe   a  new-built   Avail? 

Is   she  under  thirty,  the  woman   who   holds  a  boy 

in   her   thrall  ? 

VII. 

If    She    grow    suddenly    gracious  —  reflect.      Is    it 

all    for   thee? 
The    black  -  buck    is    stalked    through   the    bullock, 

and   Man   through   jealousy. 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafi{.  187 

VIII. 

Seek    not    for    favor    of    women.      So    shall    you 

find   it   indeed. 
Does   not   the   boar   break   cover    just   when   you're 

lighting   a   weed  ? 

IX. 

If  He  play,  being  young  and  unskilful,  for  shekels 

of   silver   and   gold, 
Take    His    money,    my   son,    praising    Allah.      The 

kid   was   ordained   to   be    sold. 

X. 

With  a  "weed"  among   men   or  horses   verily  this 

is   the   best, 
That   3'ou   Avork   him    in   office    or   dog -cart   lightly 

—  but   give    him    no    rest. 

XI. 

Pleasant    the    snaffle   of    Courtship,   improving   the 

manners   and   carriage ; 
But   the    colt   who   is   wise    will    abstain   from   the 

terrible   thorn -bit   of   JMarriage. 


1 88  Other  J^erses. 

XII. 

As    the    thriftless    gold    of    the    hahul,    so    is    the 

gold   that   we   spend 
On    a    Derby    Sweep,    or    our    neighbor's    wife,   or 

the   horse  that   we   buy   from   a  friend. 

XIII. 

The   ways   of    man   with    a    maid    be   strange,   yet 

simple   and   tame 
To     the     ways     of     a     man    with    a    horse,    when 

selling   or   racing   that   same. 

XIV. 

In   public   Her  face  turneth   to   thee,  and   pleasant 

Her   smile   when   ye   meet. 
It    is     ill.       The    cold     rocks    of    El-Gidar    smile 

thus   on   the   waves   at   their   feet. 
In    public    Her   face    is    averted,    with    anger    She 

nameth   thy   name. 
It   is   well.      Was   there   ever  a   loser  content  with 

the   loss   of  the   game  ? 


Certain  Maxims  of  Hafi{.  189 

XV. 

If    She    have    spoken   a   word,   remember   thy   lips 

are   sealed, 
And    the    Brand    of    the    Dog    is    upon    him    by 

whom   is    the    secret   revealed. 
If     She     have     written     a    letter,     delay     not     an 

instant,    but   burn   it. 
Tear   it   in    pieces,    0   Fool,   and    the   wind   to   her 

mate   shall   return   it ! 
If    there    be    trouble    to    Herward,    and    a    lie    of 

the   blackest   can   clear, 
Lie,   while   thy   lips   can   move   or   a   man   is   alive 

to   hear. 

XVI. 

My   Son,    if    a    maiden    deny   thee    and    scufflingly 

bid   thee   give   o'er, 
Yet    lip    meets    with     lip    at    the    lastward  —  get 

out !      She   has   been   there   before. 
They   are    pecked    on    the   ear   and    the    chin    and 

the    nose   who    are   lacking   in   lore. 


190  other  yerses. 

XVII. 

If  we  fall  in  the  race,  though  we  win,  the  hoof- 
slide   is   scarred   on   the   course.  || 

Though  Allah  and  Earth  pardon  Sin,  remaineth 
forever   Kemorse. 

XVIII. 

"  By    all    I    am    misunderstood ! "    if    the    Matron 

shall   say,    or   the    Maid :  — 
''  Alas !    I    do    not    understand,"   my    son,   be    thou 

nowise   afraid. 

In  vain  in  the  sight  of  the  Bird  is  the  net  of 
the   Fowler   displayed. 

XIX. 

My  son,  if   I,   Hafiz,  thy   father,  take   hold   of  thy 

knees    in    my    pain. 
Demanding   thy  name   on   stamped   paper,   one   day 

or   one   hour  —  refrain. 
Are   the   links   of    thy    fetters    so   light    that    thou 

cravest   another   man's   chain  ? 


The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head, 


191 


THE  GRAVE   OF  THE  HUNDRED  HEAD. 

^HERE'' S   a   tvidoia    in   sleepy    Chester 

Wlio   xveeps  for   her   only   son  ; 
There's    a    grave   on    the   Paheng   Blver, 

A   grave    that    the    Burmans   shun, 
And    there's    Snbadar   Prag    Teivarri 

Who    tells    how    the   tvork   icas   done. 

A    Snider   squibbed   in    the   jungle, 
Somebody   laughed   and   fled, 

And   the    men   of   the   First   Shikaris 
Picked   up   their   Subaltern   dead, 

With    a   big   blue    mark    in   his    forehead 
And   the   back   blown    out   of   his   head. 

Subadar   Prag   Tewarri, 
Jemadar   Hira   Lai, 


192  other  Verses. 

Took   command   of   the   party, 

Twenty   rifles    in   all, 
Marched   them    down   to   the   river 

As   the   day   was   beginning   to   fall. 

They   buried   the   boy   by   the    river, 

A   blanket   over   his   face  — 
They    wept   for   their   dead   Lieutenant, 

The   men   of   an   alien   race  — 
They   made    a   samddh   in   his   honor, 

A   mark   for   his   resting-place. 

For   they   swore   by   the   Holy    Water, 
Tliey   swore  by   the    salt   they    ate, 

That   the   soul   of   Lieutenant   Eshmitt    Sahib 
Should   go   to   his    God   in   state; 

With   fifty   file    of   Burman 
To    open   him    Heaven's   gate. 

The    men   of   the   First    Shikaris 
Marched   till   the   break   of   day, 


The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head.  193 

Till   tliey   came   to   the    rebel   village, 

The   village   of  Pabengmay  — 
A  j'mgal   covered   the   clearing, 

Calthrops   hampered   the   way. 

Subadar  Prag   Tewarri, 

Bidding   them   load   with   ball, 
Halted   a  dozen   rifles 

Under   the  village   wall ; 
Sent   out   a  flanking -party 

With   Jemadar   Hira   Lai. 

The   men   of   the   Pirst   Shikaris 

Shouted   and   smote    and   slew, 
Turning   the    grinning  jlngal 

On   to   the    howling   crew.    * 
The   Jemadar's   flanking -party 

Butchered   the   folk   who   flew. 

Long   was   the   morn   of   slaiighter. 
Long   was   the   list   of   slain, 


194  Other  Kerses. 

Five    score   heads   were   taken, 

Five   score   heads   and   twain ; 
And   the   men   of   the   First    Shikaris 

Went   back   to   their   grave   again, 

Each   man   bearing   a   basket 

Red   as   his    palms    that    day, 
Red   as   the   blazing   village  — 

The   village    of   Pabengmay. 
And   the    "  dri]}  -  drip  -  drip  "    from    the    baskets 

Reddened   the    grass   by   the   way. 

They   made   a   pile   of   their   trophies 

High   as   a   tall   man's   chin, 
Head   upon   head    distorted. 

Set   in    a   sightless    grin, 
Anger  and   pain   and   terror 

Stamped   on   the    smoke  -  scorched   skin. 

Subadar   Prag  Tewarri 

Put   the   head   of   the   Boh 


The  Grave  of  the  Hundred  Head.  195 

On   the   top   of   the    mound   of   triumph, 

The   head  of   his   son   below, 
With   the   sword   and   the   peacock -banner 
■    That   the   world   misrht   behold   and   know. 


Thus   the   samddh   was   perfect, 

Thus   was    the   lesson   j^lain 
Of   the   wrath   of   the    First   Shikaris  — 

The   price   of   a   white   man   slain ; 
And   the   men   of   the    First   Shikaris 

Went  back   into   camj)   again. 

Then   a   silence   came   to   the   river, 

A   hush   fell   over  the    shore, 
And   Bohs   that  were   brave   departed, 
And    Sniders    squibbed  no   more; 
For   the   Burmans    said 
That  a  knUah's   head 
Must   be   paid   for   with   heads   five   score. 


196  Other  l^erses. 

There's   a   tvidow   in   sleepy    Chester 
Who   weejys  for   her   only  son; 

There's   a   grave   on   the   Paheng   River, 
A   grave   that   the   Burmans   shun, 

And   there's    Suhadar   Prag    Tewarri 
Who   tells   how   the  ivork   was   done. 


The  Moon  of  Other  Bays.  197 


THE    MOON    OF    OTHER    DAYS. 

"OENEATH   the    deep   veranda's    shade, 

When    bats    begin   to    fly, 
I    sit   me    down    and    watch  —  alas  !  — 

Another   evening   die. 
Blood- red   behind   the    sere  f crash 

She   rises   tlirough    the   haze. 
Sainted    Diana !    can    that   be 

The    Moon   of   Other   Days? 

Ah !   shade    of   little   Kitty    Smith, 

Sweet    Saint    of   Kensington ! 
Say,    was    it   ever   thus   at   Home 

The   Moon   of   August   shone, 
When   arm    in  arm   we    wandered   long 

Through   Putney's    evening   haze. 
And   Hammersmith   was    Heaven   beneath 

The    Moon   of   Other   Days? 


other  yerses. 

But   Wandle's   stream    is    Sutlej    noWj 

And   Putney's   evening  haze 
The    dust  that   half    a  hundred   kine 

Before    my   window   raise. 
Unkempt,    unclean,    athwart   the   mist 

The   seething   city   looms, 
In    place    of   Putney's   golden   gorse 

The   sickly   hahul  blooms. 

Glare    down,   old   Hecate,  through   the   dust, 

And   bid   the   pie -dog   yell, 
Draw   from   the    drain   its    typhoid  -  germ, 

From    each   bazaar   its    smell ; 
Yea,    suck   the    fever  from   the   tank 

And   sap    my    strength   therewith : 
Thank  Heaven,   you   show   a   smiling   face 

To  little   Kitty   Smith ! 


The  Overland  Mail.  199 


THE    OVERLAND    MAIL. 

{^Foot-  Service  to  the  Hills.) 

"TN    the    name    of    the    Empress    of    India,    make 
way, 
0    Lords    of   the   Jungle,    wherever   you   roam. 
The   woods   are   astir   at   the   close   of   the    day  — 
We   exiles   are    waiting   for   letters    from    Home. 
Let   the   robber   retreat  —  let  the  tiger   turn   tail  — 
In    the     Name     of     the     Empress,     the     Overland 
Mail ! 

With   a  jingle   of   bells   as   the   dusk   gathers   in, 
He    turns    to    the   foot-path    that   heads   up   the 
hill  — 
The  bags  on  his  back  and  a  cloth  round  his  chin, 
And,   tucked   in    his   waist-belt,   the   Post   Office 
bill :  — 


200  Other  Kerses. 

"  Despatched  on  this  date,  as  received   by  the  rail, 
Fer   runner,   two  bags   of  the    Overland    Mail." 

Is    the    torrent    in    spate  ?     He    must   ford    it    or 

swim. 
Has     the     rain    wrecked    the    road  ?     He     must 

climb    by  the   cliff. 
Does     the     tempest     cry     "  Halt  "  ?       What    are 

tempests   to   him  ? 
The    Service   admits   not   a   ''but"   or   an    "if." 
While    the    breath's    in    his    mouth,    he   must   bear 

without    fail, 
In  the  Name  of   the  Empress,  the  Overland  Mail. 

From   aloe   to   rose -oak,    from   rose -oak   to   fir. 

From   level   to   upland,    from   upland   to   crest. 
From   rice -field  to  rock -ridge,  from   rock -ridge  to 
spur, 
Fly  the   soft   sandalled  feet,   strains   the   brawny 
brown  chest. 


The  Overland  Mail.  201 

From     rail     to     ravine  —  to     tlie     peak     from     the 

vale  — 
Up,    up    through    the    night      goes    the     Overland 

Mail.  ■ 

There's   a   speck    on    the    hillside,    a    dot    on    the 

road  — 

A   jingle   of  bells   on   the   foot-path   below  — 

There's   a   scuf&e   above   in   the   monkey's   abode  — 

The  world   is   awake,   and   the  clouds  are  aglow. 

For  the   great    Sun    himself    must    attend    to    the 

hail :  — 
"  In     the    name    of    the    Empress,    the    Overland 
Mail ! " 


other  yerses. 


WHAT  THE  PEOPLE  SAW. 

{Ju7ie  2ist,  1S87.) 

~DY   the    well,    where   the   bullocks    go 

Silent   and    blind   and   slow  — 
By   the   field   where   the   young   corn   dies 
In   the   face    of   the    sultry   skies, 
They  have   heard,   as   the   dull   Earth   hears 
The    voice   of   the   wind   of   an   hour, 
The   sound   of   the    Great   Queen's  voice :  — 
"My    God   hath    given   me   years, 
Hath   granted   dominion   and   power : 
And   I   bid  you,    0   Land,    rejoice." 

And   the   ploughman    settles   the   share 
More   deep   in  the   grudging   clod; 
For  he   saith:    "The   wheat   is   my   care, 
And  the   rest   is   the   will   of   God. 


JVbat  the  People  Said.  203 

"He   sent  the   Maliratta   spear 

As    He   sendeth   the   rain, 

And   the   Mlech,   in   the  fated   year, 

Broke   the   spear   in   twain. 

And   was   broken    in    turn.     Who   knows 

How   our   Lords    make    strife  ? 

It   is   good   that   the   young   wheat   grows, 

For   the   bread   is   Life." 

Then,    far   and   near,   as   the   twilight   drew. 

Hissed   up   to   the    scornful   dark 
Great  serpents,   blazing,    of   red   and   blue. 
That   rose   and   faded,   and   rose    anew. 

That   the    Land   might   wonder   and   mark 
''To-day   is   a   day   of   days,"   they   said, 
"  Make   merry,    0   People,   all  ! " 
And    the    Ploughman     listened     and     bowed     his 

head  :  — 
"To-day   and   to-morrow    God's   will,"   he    said. 
As   he   trimmed    the    lamps   on   the    wall. 


2  04  other  Verses. 

"He   sendeth   us   years   that   are   good, 

As    He    sendeth   the   dearth. 

He   giveth   to   each   man   his   food, 

Or   Her   food   to   the   Earth. 

Our   Kings  and   our   Queens    are   afar  — 

On   their   peoples   be  peace  — 

God   bringeth   the   rain   to   the   Bar, 

That   our   cattle   increase." 

And   the   Ploughman   settled   the   share 

More    deep   in    the    sun  -  dried   clod  :  — 

"Mogul,    Mahratta,   and   Mlech    from    the    N-orth, 

And   White   Queen   over   the    Seas  — 

God   raiseth   them   up   and   driveth   them    forth 

As    the    dust    of    the     ploughshare    flies    in    the 

breeze ; 
But   the    wheat   and   the   cattle   are   all   my    care, 
And   the   rest   is   the   will   of    God." 


The  Undertaker's  Horse,  205 


THE    UNDERTAKER'S    HORSE. 

"To-TSCHIN-SHU   is  condemned  to  death.    How  can  he  drink  tea 
with  the  Executioner?"  —  Japanese  Proverb. 

'T^HE   eldest   son     bestrides  him, 

And   the    pretty    daughter   rides    him, 
And   I    meet   him   oft   o'   mornings  on  the   Course ; 
And   there    wakens   in   my   bosom 
An   emotion   chill   and   gruesome 
As   I   canter   past   the   Undertaker's   Horse. 

Neither   shies   he   nor   is   restive. 
But   a   hideously    suggestive 
Trot,   professional   and   placid,   he   affects ; 
And   the   cadence   of    his   hoof  -  beats 
To   my   mind,    this   grim    reproof    beats :  — 
''  Mend  your  pace,  my  friend,  I'm   coming.     Who's 
the   next?" 


2o6  Other  Verses. 

Ah!   stud -bred   of   ill -omen, 

I   have   watched   the    strongest   go  —  men 

Of   pith   and   might   and   muscle  —  at    your   heels, 

Down   the    plantain -bordered   highway, 

(Heaven   send   it   ne'er   be    my    way ! ) 

In   a   lacquered   box   and   jetty   upon   wheels. 

Answer,    sombre   beast   and   dreary. 

Where    is    Brown,    the   young,    the    cheery. 

Smith,    the   pride   of   all   his   friends   and   half  the 

Force  ? 
You   were   at   that    last   dread   dak 
We    must   cover   at   a   walk. 
Bring   them   back   to   me,    0    Undertaker's    Horse ! 

With   your    mane   unhogged   and  flowing. 

And   your   curious    way    of   going. 

And    that    business-like    black    crimping    of    your 

tail, 
E'en   with    Beauty   on   your   back,    sir, 


The  Undertaker's  Horse.  207 

Pacing   as   a   lady's   hack,    Sir, 

What   wonder   when   I   meet   yon   I   turn   pale  ? 

It   may   be   you   wait   j^our   time,    Beast, 

Till    I    write    my   last   bad   rhyme,   Beast, 

Quit    the    sunlight,    cut    the     rhyming,     droj)     the 

glass. 
Follow   after   with   the   others. 
Where    some    dusky   heathen    smothers 
Us   with   marigolds   in   lieu   of   English   grass. 

Or,    perchance,    in   years   to   follow, 

I   shall   watch   your   plump   sides   hollow. 

See  Carnifex    (gone   lame)   become   a   corse, 

See    old   age   at   last   o'erpower   you. 

And    the    Station   Pack   devour   you, 

I   shall   chuckle   then,    0    Undertaker's    Horse ! 

But  to   insult,    gibe,   and   quest,    I've 
Still   the   hideously   suggestive 


2o8  other  Verses. 

Trot    that    hammers    out    the    grim    and    warning 

text, 
And   I   hear   it   hard   behind  me, 
In    what  place    soe'er   I  find    me :  — 
''  Sure   to   catch   you   sooner    or    later.     Who's    the 

next  ?  " 


The  Fall  of  Jock  Gillespie.  209 


THE   FALL    OF  JOCK    GILLESPIE. 

^T^HIS    fell   when    dinner-time    was    done  — 

'Twixt   the    first   an'    the    second   rub  — 
That   oor   mon   Jock   cam'    hame   again 
To   his   rooms    aliint   the    Club. 

An'    S3'ne   he   laughed,    an'    syne   he    sang, 

An'    syne   we    thocht   him    fou. 
An'    syne    he   trumped    his    partners    trick. 

An'    garred   his   partner   rue. 

Then   up   and   spake   an   elder   mon, 

That   held   the    Sj^ade   its   Ace  — 
"■  God   save   the   lad !     Whence   comes    the   licht 

That   wimples    on   his   face  ? " 

An'   Jock   he   sniggered,    an'   Jock   he    smiled, 
An'   ower   the   card -brim   wunk  :  — 


2IO  Other  l^erses. 

"I'm   a'   too   fresh   fra'   tlie   stirrup -peg, 
IVIay    be   that   I   am    drunk." 

"There's   whusky   brewed   in    Galashiels, 

An'    L.    L.    L.    forbye ; 
But   never   liquor   lit    the    low 

That   keeks   fra'    oot   your   eye. 

"There's  a  thrid  o'  hair  on  your  dress -coat  breast, 

Aboon   the   heart   a   wee  ? " 
"  Oh !   that   is    fra'    the   lang  -  haired   Skye 

That   slobbers    ower   nie." 

"  Oh  !   lang  -  haired    Skyes  are   lovin'   beasts, 

An'    terrier   dogs    are   fair, 
But    never   yet  was   terrier   born 

Wi'    ell  -  lang   gowden    hair  ! 

"There's   a   smirch    o'   pouther   on    your   breast, 

Below   the    left   lappel?" 
"  Oh !   that   is    fra'    my   auld   cigar, 

Whenas   the    stump  -  end   fell." 


The  Fall  of  Jock  Gillespie. 

"Mon  Jock,   ye   smoke   the    Trichi   coarse, 

For  ye    are    short   o'    cash, 
An'   best   Havanas   couldna   leave 

Sae   white   an'   pure   an   ash. 

"This   nicht   ye    stopped   a   story   braid, 
An'    stopped   it   wi'    a   curse  — 

Last   nicht   ye   tokl   that   tale   yoursel. 
An'   capped   it   wi'   a   worse  ! 

"  Oh  !   we're   no    fou  !     Oh  !    we're    no    fou  ! 

But    plainly    we    can   ken 
Ye're    fallin',    fallin',    fra'   the   band 

0'    cantie    single    men  ! " 

An'  it  fell  when  s^rr/s-shaws  were  sere, 
An'    the    nichts    were   lang   and   mirk, 

In  braw  new  breeks,  Avi'  a  gowden  ringj 
Oor   Jockie   gaed   to   the    Kirk. 


212  Other  Kerses. 


ARITHMETIC    ON    THE    FRONTIER. 

A      GREAT   and   glorious   thing   it   is 
To   learn,   for  seven   years   or   so, 
The    Lord   knows   what   of   that   and   this. 

Ere   reckoned   fit  to   face   the   foe  — 
The   flying   bullet   down  the   Pass, 
That   whistles    clear :    "  All   flesh   is   grass." 

Three   hundred   pounds   per   annum   spent 
On   making  brain   and   body   meeter 

For   all   the   murderous   intent 

Comprised   in    "  villanous    saltpetre  !  " 

And   after  —  ask   the   Yusufzaies 

What    comes   of   all    our   'ologies. 

A   scrimmage    in  a   Border   Station  — 
A  canter  down  some   dark   defile  — 


Arithmetic  on  the  Frontier.  213 

Two   thousand   pounds   of   education 

Drops   to   a   ten -rupee  jeza'd  — 
The    Crammer's   boast,   the    Squadron's   pride, 
Shot   like   a  rabbit   in   a   ride ! 

No   proposition   Euclid   wrote, 

JSTo   formulae   the   text -books   know, 
Will   turn   the    bullet   from   your   coat. 

Or   ward   the    tulwar's    downward   blow. 
Strike  hard  who  cares  —  shoot  straight  who  can  — 
The   odds   are   on   the   cheaper   man.     ■ 

One   sword-knot   stolen   from   the    camp 
Will    pay    for   all   the    school    expenses 

Of   any    Kurrum    Valley    scamp 

Who   knows   no  word   or   moods    and   tenses. 

But,    being   blessed   with   perfect    sight. 

Picks    off   our   messmates   left   and    right. 

With    home  -  bred   hordes    the   hill  -  sides   teem. 
The   troop -ships   bring   us   one   by    one, 


214  Other  l^erses. 

At   vast   expense   of  time  and   steam, 

To   slay    Afridis   where    they    run. 
The    "  captives   of   our   bow   and   spear " 
Are    cheap  —  alas !  as   we   are   dear. 


One  Viceroy  Resigns.  215 


ONE     VICEROY   RESIGNS. 

{Lord  Dufferin  to  Lord  Lansdowne.) 

00    here's    your   Empire.     In  o   more   wine,   then  ? 

Good. 
We'll   clear   the    Aides    and    kJiitmatgars   away, 
(You'll  know  that  fat   old  fellow  with  the  knife  — 
He   keeps   the"  Name    Book,   talks   in   English   too, 
And   almost   thinks    himself   the    Government.) 

0  Youth,    Youth,    Youth !     Forgive    me,   3^ou're    so 

young. 
Forty  from    sixty  —  twenty  years    of   work 
And   power   to   back   the   working.       Ay   de   mi ! 
You   want   to   know,    you    want   to    see,    to   touch. 
And,    by    your   lights,    to    act.      It's    natural. 

1  wonder    can    I    help    you.       Let    me    try. 

You  saw  —  what   did   you  see   from    Bombay  east  ? 
Enough   to    frighten    any    one    but    me  ? 


2i6  Other  Verses. 

Neat   that !      It  frightened   Me   in   Eighty  -  Four  ! 
You   shouldn't   take   a  man   from   Canada 
And   bid   him    smoke    in   powder-magazines; 
Nor   with   a   Reputation   such   as  —  Bah  ! 
That   ghost   has   haunted   me   for   twenty  years, 
My   Reputation   now    full    blown  —  Your   fault  — 
Yours,   with   your  stories    of   the    strife    at   Home, 
Who's    up,    who's    down,    who    leads    and    who    is 

led  — 
One  reads   so   much,    one   hears   so   little   here. 
Well,    now's   your   turn   of   exile.     I    go    back 
To   Rome   and   leisure.     All   roads   lead   to    Rome, 
Or   books  —  the   refuge   of   the   destitute. 
When     you  .  .  .  that    brings    me    back    to    India. 

See! 
Start  clear.     I    couldn't.     Egypt  served  my  turn. 
You'll   never   plumb   the    Oriental   mind, 
And    if   you   did   it   isn't   worth   the    toil. 
Think   of   a   sleek   French   priest   in   Canada; 
Divide   by   twenty   half-breeds.      Multiply 


One  l^iceroy  Resigns.  217 

By  twice  the   Sphinx's  silence.     There's  your  East, 
And   you're   as    wise    as    ever.       So    am    I, 

Accept   on   trust   and    work    in   darkness,    strike 
At   venture,    stumble    forward,    make   your   mark, 
(It's   chalk   on   granite),  then   thank   God   no  flame 
Leaps    from    the    rock    to    shrivel   mark    and   man. 
I'm   clear  —  my   mark   is   made.     Three   months   of 

drought 
Had   ruined   much.      It   rained   and  Avashed   away 
The    specks     that    might     have    gathered    on    my 

Name. 
I   took   a   country   tAvice   the   size   of   France, 
And   shuttered   up   one    doorway  in   the    North. 
I   stand  by  those.     You'll  And    that   both  will  pay, 
I     pledged     my     Name     on     both  —  they're     yours 

to  -  night. 
Hold   to   them  —  they   hold   fame   enough   for  two. 
I'm    old,    but   I    shall    live    till    Burma   paA-s. 
Men      there  —  not     German      traders  —  Cr-sthw-te 

knows  — 


2i8  other  yerses. 

You'll   find   it   in   my  papers.      For   the  jSTorth 
Guns   always  —  quietly  —  but   always  guns. 
You've    seen    your    Council  ?      Yes,    they'll    try   to 

rule, 
And    prize   their   Reputations.      Have    you   met 
A   grim   lay -reader   with   a   taste   for   coins. 
And   faith   in    Sin   most    men   withhold   from   God  ? 
He's   gone   to   England.       R-p-n    knew   his    grip 
And   kicked.      A   Council   always   has   its    H-pes. 
They  look   for  nothing  from    the   West   but   Death 
Or  Bath   or  Bournemouth.       Here's    their  ground. 

They    fight 
Until   the    middle   classes   take   them    back, 
One    of   ten    millions    plus    a   C.  S.  I. 
Or    drop    in   harness.      Legion    of   the    Lost  ? 
Not    altogether  —  earnest,    narrow    men, 
But   chiefly    earnest,    and   they'll   do   your   work. 
And    end   by    writing   letters    to   the    Times. 
(Shall   /  write   letters,    answering   H-nt-r  —  fawn 
With   R-p-n   on   the    Yorkshire    grocers  ?     Ugh !) 


One  Viceroy  Resigns.  219 

They   liav^e    their    Reputations.      Look   to   one  — 
I   work    with    liim  —  the    smallest   of   them    all, 
White  -  haired,    red -faced,    Avho     sat    the     plunging 

horse 
Out   in   the    garden.     He's   your   right-hand   man, 
And   dreams    of   tilting    W-ls-y    from  the    throne. 
But    while    he   dreams    gives  work  we   cannot   buy; 
He   nas   his   Reputation  —  wants   the    Lords 
By    way   of   Frontier  Roads.     Meantime,    I   think, 
He   values    very   much   the    hand   that   falls 
Upon    his   shoulder   at   the    Council   table  — 
Hates     cats     and    knows     his     business :    which    is 

yours. 
Your  business  !      Twice  a  hundred  million  souls. 
Your   business  !      I   could   tell   you   what  I   did 
Some   nights   of   Eighty  -  Five,   at    Simla,  worth 
A    Kingdom's   ransom.       "When    a   big   ship   drives, 
God    knows    to   what    new    reef    the    man    at   the 

wheel 
Prays  with  the  passengers.      They  lose  their  lives, 


220  Other  Verses. 

Or   rescued   go   their   way ;  but   he's   no   man 

To    take    his    trick    at     the    wheel    again  —  that's 

worse 
Than   drowning.      Well,    a   galled   Mashobra   mule 
(You'll    see    ]\[ashobra)    passed   me   on   the    Mall, 
And    I    was  —  some    fool's    wife    had    ducked    and 

bowed 
To   show   the   others    I    would   stop   and   speak. 
Then   the   mule   fell  —  three   galls,  a  hand -breadth 

each, 
Behind   the    withers.      Mrs.    Whatsisname 
Leers     at     the     mule    and     me     by    turns,    thweet 

thoul ! 
"How  could   they   make   him    carry   such   a   load!" 
I    saw  —  it    isn't   often    I    dream    dreams  — 
More    than    the    mule    that     minute  —  smoke    and 

flame 
From    Simla   to   the   haze   below.      That's   weak. 
You're     younger.        You'll     dream     dreams     before 

you've   done. 


One  yiceroy  Resigns.  221 

You've    youth,   that's    one  —  good    workmen — that 

means   two 
Fair   chances   in   your   favor.      Fate's   the   third. 
I  know  what  I  did.      Do  you  ask  me,   "Preach''? 
I   answer   by   my   past   or   else   go   back 
To   platitudes   of   rule  —  or   take   you   thus 
In   confidence   and   say  :  —  "  You   know   the    trick  : 
You've  governed  Canada.     You  know.      You  know  ! " 
And   all   the   while    commend   you   to    Fate's   hand 
(Here   at   the   top   one   loses   sight   o'    God), 
Commend  you,  then,  to  something  more  than  you  — 
The  Other  People's   blunders   and   .    .    .    that's    all. 
I'd   agonize   to    serve   you   if   I   could. 
It's   incommunicable,    like   the   cast 
That    drops   the   tackle    with   the    gut   adry. 
Too   much  —  too   little  —  there's   your    salmon   lost! 
And   so    I    tell   you   nothing  —  wish   you   luck. 
And   wonder  — how    I    wonder  I  —  for   your   sake 
And   triumph   for  my  own.      You're   young,  you're 

young. 


22  2  Other  Verses. 

You   hold   to   half  a   hundred    Shibboleths. 

I'm    old.      I    followed   Power   to   the   last, 

Gave    her   my   best,    and   Power   followed   Me. 

It's    worth    it  —  on    my    soul   I'm    speaking   plain, 

Here   by   the   claret   glasses !  —  worth   it   all. 

I   gave  —  no    matter    what    I    gave  —  I    win. 

I    know    I    win.       Mine's    work,    good    work    that 

live ! 
A   country   twice   the    size   of   France — the   Korth 
Safeguarded.      That's    my   record :    sink    the    rest 
And  better   if   you    can.      The    Eains   may   serve, 
Rupees     may    rise  —  three     pence    will     give     you 

Fame  — 
It's    rash   to   hope    for   sixpence  —  If   they   rise 
Get   guns,    more   guns,    and   lift   the   salt -tax. 

Oh! 
I  told   you  what    the  Congress   meant  or  thought? 
I'll   answer   nothing.      Half   a   year   Avill   prove 
The  full  extent   of   time    and  thought   you'll   spare 
To    Congress.      Ask   a   Lady    Doctor   once 


One  Viceroy  Resigns.  223 

How   little   Begums   see   the   light  —  deduce 

Thence   how   the    True    Reformer's    child   is    born. 

It's   interesting,    curious    .    .    .    and   vile. 

I   told   the    Turk   he    was    a   gentleman. 

I   told   the    Eussian   that   his   Tartar   veins 

Bled   pure   Parisian   ichor ;    and   he   purred. 

The    Congress    doesn't   purr.      I   think    it   swears. 

You're  young  —  you'll  swear  too  ere  you've  reached 

the  end. 
The   End!      God   help   you,    if   there   be   a    God. 
(There    must   be    one   to   startle    Gl-dst-ne's   soul 
In   that   new   land   where   all   the    wires    are   cut, 
And    Cr-ss    snores   anthems    on   the   asphodel.) 
God    help   you !      And   I'd   help   you   if   I    could, 
But    that's    beyond    me.       Yes,    your    speech    was 

crude. 
Sound   claret   after   olives — yours   and   mine; 
But   Medoc   slips    into   vin    ordinaire. 
(I'll    drink    my    first   at    Genoa   to   your   health.) 
Raise   it   to   Hock.      You'll   never   catch    my   style. 


224  Other  yerses. 

And,    after   all,    the   middle  -  classes   grip 

The      middle  -  class  —  for     Brompton      talk     Earl's 

Court. 
Perhaps  you're  right.      I'll  see  you  in  the  Times  — 
A   quarter -column    of   eye -searing   print, 
A   leader   once   a   quarter  —  then   a   war; 
The    Strand  abellow  through   the   fog:    *' Defeat!" 
"  'Orrible   slaughter !  "      While   you   lie   awake 
And   wonder.      Oh,   you'll   wonder  ere   you're   free ! 
I   wonder   now.      The   four   years   slide   away 
So    fast,    so   fast,    and   leave   me   here   alone. 
R — y,   C-lv-n,    L — 1,    R-b-rts,    B-ck,    the   rest. 
Princes     and     Powers     of     Darkness,     troops     and 

trains, 
(I   cannot   sleep   in   trains),    land   piled   on   land, 
Whitewash   and    weariness,    red   rockets,    dust. 
White     snows     that     mocked     me,     palaces  —  Avith 

draughts. 
And   W-stl-nd   with   the   drafts   he   couldn't   pay. 
Poor   W-ls-n    reading   his    obituary 


One  Viceroy  Resigns.  225 

Before   he  died,    and   H-pe,   tlie   man  with   bones, 
And   A-tch-s-n   a   dripping   mackintosh 
At   Council    in   the    Rains,    his    grating    "  Sirrr " 
Half     drowned     by     H-nt-r's     silky  :  —  "  Bat    my 

lahd." 
Hunterian   always :    M-rsh-1   spinning   plates 
Or   standing   on    his   head ;    the    Rent   Bill's    roar, 
A   hundred   thousand   speeches,   much   red   cloth, 
And    Smiths  thrice    happy    if   I   call    them    Jones, 
(I   can't   remember  half   their   names)    or   reined 
My   pony   on   the   Mall   to   greet   their   wives. 
More    trains,    more    troops,    more    dust,    and    then 

all's   done. 
Four   years,    and   I   forget.      If   I   forget 
How    will    they    bear    me    in    their    minds  ?      The 

North 
Safeguarded  —  nearly    (R-b-rts    knows   the    rest), 
A   country   twice   the    size   of   France    annexed. 
That    stays    at    least.      The    rest    may   pass  —  may 

pass  — 


226  Other  yerses. 

Your   heritage  —  and   I   can   teach   you   nought. 
"High   trust,"    "vast    honor,"    "interests    twice    as 

vast," 
"Due  reverence  to  your  Council" — keep  to  those. 
I   envy   you   tlie   twenty   years   you've   gained. 
But   not   the   five  to  follow.     What's    that?     One? 
Two  !  —  Surely   not    so    late.      Good  -  night.      DonH 

dream. 


Ihe  Betrothed.  227 


THE    BETROTHED. 

"  You  must  choose  between  me  and  your  cigar." 

/~\PEiSr  the  old   cigar -box,   get  me  a  Cuba  stout, 
For  things  are  running  crossways,  and  Maggie 
and    I    are    out. 


We  quarrelled   about   Havanas  —  we   fought  o'er   a 

good   cheroot. 
And   I   know  she   is   exacting,   and  she  says   I  am 

a  brute. 

Open     the     old     cigar- box  —  let    me    consider     a 

space ; 
In    the    soft    blue   veil    of    the    vapor,    musing   on 

Maggie's    face. 


228  Other  l^erses. 

Maggie    is   pretty   to   look   at  —  Maggie's    a    loving 

lass, 
But   the    prettiest   cheeks   must  wrinkle,   the  truest 

of  loves   must   pass. 

There's   peace   in    a    Laranaga,    there's    calm    in    a 

Henry    Clay, 
But   the    best    cigar   in    an    hour    is    finished    and 

thrown   away  — 

Thrown    away    for    another    as    perfect     and    ripe 

and   brown  — 
But    I    could   not    throw    away    Maggie   for   fear   o' 

the   talk   o'    the   town ! 

Maggie,    my    wife    at    fifty  —  gray    and    dour    and 

old  — 
With   never   another   Maggie   to   purchase    for   love 

or   gold  ! 


The  Betrothed.  229 

And   the    light   of   Days    that  have   Been  the    dark 

of   the   Days    that   Are, 
And    Love's    torch     stinking    and    stale,    like    the 

butt   of  a   dead   cigar  — 


The  butt  of   a   dead  cigar   you  are   bound  to  keep 

in    your    pocket  — 
With    never   a   new    one    to    light  tho'    it's   charred 

and   black   to    the   socket. 

Open     the     old     cigar -box  —  let     me     consider     a 

■while  — 
Here     is     a     mild    Manilla  —  there     is     a     wifely 

smile. 

Which     is     the     better    portion — bondage    bought 

with   a   ring. 
Or    a    harem    of    dusky   beauties    fifty    tied    in    a 

string  ? 


230  other  yerses. 

Counsellors    cunning    and    silent  —  comforters    true 

and   tried, 
And   never    a   one  of   the   fifty  to  sneer  at  a   rival 

bride. 


Thought   in    the    early    morning,    solace    in    time    of 

woes, 
Peace   in    the   hush   of   the   twilight,  balm   ere   my 

eyelids   close. 

This    will    the    fifty    give    me,    asking    nought    in 

return, 
With   only   a    Suttee's   passion  —  to    do   their   duty 

and   burn. 

This    will     the     fifty    give    me.     When    they    are 

spent   and  dead. 
Five    times    other    fifties    shall    be    my    servants 

instead. 


The  Betrothed.  231 

The    furrows    of    far-off    Java,    the    isles    of    the 

Spanish   Main, 
When    they   hear   my    harem    is    empty,    Avill    send 

me   mv   brides   asrain. 


I   will   take    no    heed  to    their   raiment,    nor   food 

for    their   mouths  withal. 

So   long   as   the  gulls  are   nesting,   so   long  as    the 

showers    fall. 

I  will   scent   'em   with    best  vanilla,   with   tea   will 

I   temper   their   hides, 
And   the    Moor   and    the    Mormon    shall   envy    who 

read   of   the    tale    of   ray    brides. 

For   Maggie    has   written   a   letter   to   give   me   my 

choice   between 
The   wee    little    whimpering    Love    and    the    great 

god   Nick   o'    Teen. 


232  Other  l^erses. 

And    I    have   been   servant    of    Love    for   barely   a 

twelvemonth    clear, 
But   I   have   been   Priest   of  Partagas    a   matter  of 

seven   year  ; 

And  the    gloom    of    my   bachelor   days    is    flecked 

with  the   cheery   light 
Of     stumps     that     I     burned     to     Friendship     and 

Pleasure   and   "Work   and   Fight. 


And   I    turn   my    eyes   to   the   future    that    Maggie 

and   I   must   prove, 
But   the    only    light   on    the    marshes   is   the    Will- 

o'  -  the  -Wisp   of   Love. 


Will     it     see     me    safe    through    my    journey,   or 

leave    me    bogged   in    the    mire  ? 
Since    a    puff    of    tobacco    can    cloud    it,    shall    I 

follow   the    fitful   lire  ? 


The  Betrothed.  233 

Open  the  old  cigar-box  —  let  me  consider  anew  — 
Old    friends,    and   who    is    Maggie    that    I    should 
abandon   you  ? 

A    million    surplus     Maggies    are    willing   to    bear 

the   yoke  ; 
And    a    Avoman    is    only    a    woman,    but    a    good 

cigar   is   a   Smoke. 

Light  me  another  Cuba;  I  hold  to  my  first -sworn 

vows, 

If     Maggie     will     have  no     rival,     I'll     have     no 

Maggie   for   spouse ! 


234  Other  Verses. 


A      TALE     OF     TWO     CITIES. 

"TTTHERE   the   sober -colored   cultiv^ator   smiles 

On    his    hyles ; 
Where   the    cholera,  the    cyclone,  and   the    crow 

Come    and    go ; 
Where    the    merchant   deals    in    indigo    and    tea, 

Hides    and    (/hi ; 
Where    the    Babu    drops    inflammatory    hints 

In    his    prints  ; 
Stands   a   City  —  Charnock  chose    it  —  packed  away 

Near    a   Bay  — 
By   the   sewage    rendered    fetid,    by    the    sewer 

Made   impure, 
By  the    Sunderbunds    unwholesome,  by    the    swamp 

Moist   and    damp ; 
And    the    City    and   the    Vicero}^,    as    we    see, 

Don't   agree. 


A  Tale  of  Two  Cities.  235 

Once,    two   hundred   years    ago,    the   trader   came 

Meek    and    tame. 
Where     his     timid     foot     first     halted,     there     he 
stayed. 

Till    mere    trade 
Grew    to    Empire,    and    he    sent    his    armies    forth 

South  and   Korth 
Till   the    country    from    Peshawar    to    Ceylon 

Was    his    own. 
Thus   the    mid -day  halt  of   Charnock  —  more's   the 
pity! 

Grew    a   City. 
As    the    fungus    sprouts    chaotic   from    its    bed, 

So   it   spread  — 
Chance -directed,    chance -erected,    laid    and   built 

On    the    silt  — 
Palace,    byre,    hovel  —  poverty    and    pride  — 

Side    by    side  ; 
And,    above    the    packed   and    pestilential    town, 

Death    looked   down. 


236  Other  yerses. 

But   the    Rulers   in   that  City    by   the   Sea 

Turned   to   flee  — 
Fled,  with   each  returning   spring -tide  from  its  ills 

To   the    Hills. 

From    the     clammy     fogs    of     morning,    from    the 

blaze 

Of  the   days, 

From   the   sickness  of  the  noontide,  from  the  heat, 

Beat   retreat ; 
For   the    country    from    Peshawar   to    Ceylon 

Was   their   own. 
But   the    Merchant   risked   the   perils  of   the   Plain 

For   his   gain. 

Now    the    resting-place    of    Charnock,    'neath    the 

palms, 

Asks   an   alms. 

And   the   burden   of   its   lamentation   is. 

Briefly,   this  :  — 
"Because,  for  certain  months,  we    boil  and  stew, 

So    should    you. 


A  Tale  of  Two  Cities.  237 

Cast   the   Viceroy    and   his    Council,    to   perspire 

In   our   fire  !  " 
And   for   answer   to    the    argument,    in   vain 

We    explain 
That   an   amateur    Saint    Lawrence    cannot    fry  :  — 

''All    must    fry!" 
That   the    Merchant    risks    the    perils   of    the    Plain 

For    his    gain. 

Nor    can     Rulers     rule     a    house     that     men    grow 

rich   in, 

From    its   kitchen. 

Let   the    Babu   drop    inflammatory    hints 

In    his    prints  ; 
And  mature  —  consistent  soul  —  his   plan   for  steal- 
ing 

To   Darjeeling : 

Let  the  Merchant  seek,  who   makes   his   silver  pile, 

England's   isle  ; 
Let   the   City   Charnock   pitched   on  —  evil    day  !  — 

Go   Her  way. 


238  other  yerses. 

Though   the   argosies   of  Asia   at   Her   doors 

Heap   their   stores, 
Though   Her   enterprise   and   energy   secure 

Income   sure, 
Though  "out -station    orders    punctually   obeyed" 

Swell   Her   trade  — 
Still,    for   rule,   administration,   and  the  rest, 

Simla's  best. 


Griffen's  Debt.  239 


GRIFFEN'S  DEBT. 

TMPKIMIS   he   was    "broke."      Thereafter   left 

His    regiment,    and,    later,    took   to    drink ; 
Then,    having   lost   the    balance   of   his    friends, 
"  Went    Fantee "  —  joined   the    people    of   the   land, 
Turned   three    parts    ^Mussulman    and   one    Hindu, 
And   lived   among   the    Gauri    villagers. 
Who   gave    him    shelter   and    a   wife    or   twain, 
And   boasted   that   a   thorough,    full -blood   snhih 
Had     come     among     them.       Thus     he     spent     his 

time, 
Deeply   indebted   to   the    village   shroff, 
(Who   never   asked    for   payment)    always    drunk. 
Unclean,   abominable,    out  -  at  -  heels  ; 
Forgetting   that    he    was    an    Englishman. 

You   know   they    dammed   the    Gauri    with    a   dam. 
And   all   the   good  contractors  scamped  their  work. 


240  other  l^erses. 

And   all   the   bad   material   at   hand 

Was   used    to   dam    the    Gauri  —  which   was   cheap, 

And,    therefore,    proper.      Then    the    Gauri   burst, 

And   several   hundred  thousand   cubic    tons 

Of   water   dropped    into   the    valley,  fop, 

And   drowned    some    five    and   twenty    villagers, 

And    did    a   lakh    or   two   of   detriment 

To   crops    and  cattle.      When  the  flood  went  down 

We    found   him   dead,  .beneath   an   old   dead   horse, 

Full    six    miles   down   the    valley.       So   we    said 

He    was   a   victim   to   the    Demon    Drink, 

And    moralized   upon    him    for   a   Aveek, 

And   then   forgot   him.      Which   was   natural. 

But,    in   the   valley   of   the    Gauri,    men 
Beneath   the    shadow   of   the   big   new    dam 
Relate  a   foolish   legend    of   the    flood. 
Accounting   for   the    little    loss   of   life 
(Only   those    live    and    twenty    villagers) 
In  this   wise :    On   the   evening   of  the    flood, 


Griffen's  Debt.  •     241 

They   heard   the    groaning   of    the   rotten   dam, 

And   voices    of   the    Mountain   Devils.      Then 

An   incarnation  of   the   local    God, 

Mounted   upon   a   monster- neighing   horse, 

And   flourishing   a  flail  -  like    whip,    came   down, 

Breathing   ambrosia,    to   the   villages. 

And   fell    upon    the   simple    villagers 

With   yells    beyond  the    power  of   mortal   throat, 

And   blows   beyond   the    power   of   mortal    hand. 

And    smote    them    with    the    flail -like    whip,    and 

drove 
Them    clamorous    with    terror   up   the   hill, 
And   scattered,    with   the    monster -neighing   steed. 
Their   crazy  cottages   about   their   ears, 
And   generally   cleared   those    villages. 
Then   came   the    water,  and   the   local   God, 
Breathing   ambrosia,    flourishing   his  whip. 
And   mounted  on    his    monster -neighing   steed, 
Went   down    the    valley    Avith    the   flying   trees 
And   residue   of   homesteads,    while   they   watched 


2  42  Other  l^erses. 

Safe  on  the  mountain  -  side  these  wondrous  things, 
And     knew     that     they     were     much     beloved     of 
Heaven. 

Wherefore,    and   Avhen   the   dam  was   newly   built. 

They    raised    a   temple    to   the    local    God, 

And    burned   all    manner   of   unsavory    things 

Upon    his    altar,    and   created  priests, 

And   blcAv    into    a   conch,    and   banged   a   bell. 

And   told    the    story    of   the    Gauri    flood 

With    circumstance   and   much   embroidery. 

So   he   the  whiskified   Objectionable, 

Unclean,    abominable,    out  -  at  -  heels, 

Became   the   tutelary    Deity 

Of   all   the    Gaiiri   valley    villages ; 

And   may   in   time   become   a   Solar   Myth. 


In  Springtime.  243 


IN    SPRINGTIME. 

ny/TY    garden    blazes   brightl}^   with   the   rose-bush 
and   the    peach, 
And   the     T^o'd    sings    above    it,    in    the    siris   by 
the   well, 
From   the  creeper  -  covered  trellis  conies  the   squir- 
rel's  chattering   speech. 
And  the    blue  -  jay     screams    and    flutters    where 
the   cheery   sat  -  hhai   dwell. 
But    the    rose    has    lost    its     fragrance,     and     the 
koiVs   note   is    strange ; 
I   am  sick  of    endless   sunshine,   sick  of  blossom- 
burdened   bough. 
Give   me   back    the    leafless    woodlands    where    the 
winds   of    Springtime    range  — 
Give     me    back    one    day    in     England,    for    it's 
Spring   in   England    now ! 


244  Other  l^erses. 

Through    the    pines    the    gusts    are   booming,   o'er 
the   brown   fields    blowing   chill, 
From    the    furrow    of    the    ploughshare    streams 
the  fragrance   of    the   loam, 
And   the   hawk   nests    on    the    cliff  -  side    and    the 
jackdaw    in   the    hill, 
And    my   heart    is    back    in    England    mid    the 
sights    and   sounds   of    Home. 
But   the    garland    of    the    sacrifice    this   wealth   of 
rose   and   peach   is ; 
Ah!      koil,     little     ko'd,     singing     on     the     siris 
bough. 
In    my    ears    the    knell    of     exile    your   ceaseless 
bell -like    speech   is  — 
Can    you    tell    me    aught     of     England     or     of 
Spring   in    England   now  ? 


Two  Months.  245 


TM^O    MONTHS. 

IN  JUNE. 

"M"0    hope,    no    change !     The    clouds    have    shut 
us   in 
And   through   the   cloud   the    sullen    Sun    strikes 

down 
Full   on   the    bosom   of    the   tortured   Town. 
Till   Night    falls    heavy   as    remembered    sin 
That   will    not   suffer   sleep   or   thought   of    ease. 
And,  hour  on  hour,  the  dry -eyed  Moon   in   spite 
Glares     through     the     haze     and     mocks     with 
watery    light 
The    torment   of   the    uncomplaining   trees. 

Far   off,    the    Thunder   bellows    her   despair 

To   echoing   Earth,  thrice   parched.     The  lightnings 

fly 


246  other  l^erses. 

In   vain.     No   help   the    heaped-up   clouds    afford, 
But   Avearier   weight   of    burdened,    burning   air. 
What   truce    with   Dawn  ?     Look,    from   the   aching 

sky, 

Day  stalks,   a   tyrant    with   a   flaming   sword ! 


IN   SEPTEMBER. 

At   dawn   there    was   a   murmur   in   the   trees, 
A   ripple   on   the   tank,    and   in   the   air 
Presage   of    coming   coolness  —  everywhere 
A   voice   of    prophecy   upon   the    breeze. 
Up   leapt   the   sun   and    smote   the   dust   to  gold. 
And   strove   to   parch   anew   the   heedless   land. 
All    impotently,  as   a   King   grown   old 

Wars    for    the     Empire     crumbling     'neath     his 
hand. 

One   after   one,   the   lotos -petals   fell. 
Beneath   the   onslaught   of    the   rebel   year 


Two  Months.  247 

In   mutiny   against   a   furious    sky; 
And   far-off   Winter   whispered:    ''It   is    well! 
Hot    Summer   dies.      Beliold,    your   help   is    near, 
For   when   men's   need   is   sorest,   then    come   1." 


248  other  yerses. 


THE     GALLE  Y  -  SLA  VE. 

/~\H,    gallant    was     our    galley    from    her    carven 

steering -wheel 
To    her    figurehead    of     silver    and    her    beak    of 

hammered    steel ; 
The  leg  -  bar  chafed   the  ankle,  and  we   gasped  for 

.    cooler   air, 
But    no     galley    on    the    water    with     our    galley 
could   compare  ! 

Our  bulkheads   bulged   with   cotton   and  our  masts 

were   stepped   in    gold  — 
We   ran   a   mighty  merchandise   of    niggers   in   the 

hold  ; 
The   white   foam   spun   behind    us,    and    the    black 

shark    swam    below. 
As   we   gripped   the    kicking    sweep -head    and   we 

made   that    galley    go. 


The  Galley-Shwe.  249 

It  was    merry   in   the    galley,  for  we    revelled   now 

and   then  — 
If    they     wore     us     down     like     cattle,     faith,     we 

fought    and    loved   like    men ! 
As   Ave    snatched    her    through    the    water,    so    we 

snatched   a   minute's    bliss. 
And   the    mutter   of    the   dying    never    spoiled   the 

lovers'   kiss. 

Our  women   and   our   children   toiled   beside   us   in 

the   dark  — 
They    died,   Ave  filed   their   fetters,    and  we   heaved 

them   to   the    shark  — 
We    heaved    them    to    the    fishes,    but    so    fast    the 

galley   sped. 
We     had    only    time    to    envy,    for    we    could    not 

mourn    our   dead. 

Bear  witness,  once  my  comrades,  what  a  hard- 
bit   gang    were    we  — 

The  servants  of  the  sweep -head,  but  the  masters 
of   the    sea ! 


250  Other  l^erses. 

By  the  hands  tliat  drove  her  forward  as  she 
plunged    and   yawed    and    sheered, 

Woman,  IMan,  or  God  or  Devil,  was  there  any- 
thing   we    feared  ? 

Was     it     storm  ?     Our     fathers     faced     it,    and     a 

wilder   never   blew  ; 
Earth   that    waited   for   the   wreckage   w\atched   the 

galley    struggle    through. 
Burning      noon     or     choking     midnight,     Sickness, 

Sorrow,    Parting,    Death  ? 
Nay,    our   very    babes  would    mock    yon,    had   they 

time    for    idle    breath. 

But   to-day  I    leave   the  galley,  and  another  takes 

my   place  ; 
There's    my    name    upon    the    deck -beam  —  let    it 

stand   a   little    space. 
I   am    free  —  to    watch   my   messmates   beating   out 

to  open    main, 
Free   of   all   that   Life   can    offer  —  save   to   handle 

sweep  again. 


The  Galley-Slave.  251 

By    the    brand   upon   my    shoulder,    by    the    gall   of 

clinging   steel, 
By    the     welt    the    whips    have    left    me,    by   the 

scars   that   never    heal ; 
By     eyes    grown     old     with     staring     through     the 

sun  -  wash    on   the   brine, 
I   am    paid   in    full    for    service  —  would    that    ser- 
.    vice   still   were   mine ! 

Yet   they   talk   of  times   and   seasons    and   of   woe 

the   years    bring   forth, 
Of    our    galley    swamped    and     shattered     in    the 

rollers    of   the   North. 
When    the    niggers    break     the     hatches,    and     the 

decks   are   ga}^   with   gore. 
And    a    craven  -  hearted    pilot    crams    her    crashing 

on   the   shore. 

She    will    need    no    half-mast    signal,    minute -gun, 

or   rocket  -  flare, 
When    the    cry    for    help    goes    seaward,    she    will 

find  her   servants    there. 


252  Other  Verses. 

Battered  chain -gangs   of   the   orlop,   grizzled   drafts 

of   years    gone   by, 
To    the     bench    that    broke     their    manhood,    they 

shall  lash    themselves    and   die. 

Hale  and  crippled,  young  and  aged,  paid,  deserted, 

shipped   away  — 
Palace,   cot,   and   lazaretto    shall    make  up  the   tale 

that   day, 
When    the   skies    are   black    above    them,    and    the 

decks   ablaze    beneath. 
And     the     top -men     clear     the     raffle    with    their 

clasp  -  knives    in   their   teeth. 

It   may  be   that    Fate   will   give  me   life  and  leave 

to    row   once    more  — 
Set   some    strong    man    free   for  fighting    as    I  take 

awhile    his    oar. 
But    to  -  day    I    leave    the    galley.     Shall    I    curse 

her   service  then  ? 
God    be    thanked  —  whate'er    comes    after,    I   have 

lived   and   toiled   with   Men ! 


L' Envoi.  253 


rENVOI. 

{To   whom    if   may    concern.) 

'T^HE    smoke   upon   your   Altar   dies, 

The   flowers    decay, 
The    Goddess   of   your   sacrifice 

Has   flown    away. 
What   profit   then    to    sing   or   slay 
The   sacrifice    from    day   to    day  ? 

''  We    know    the    Shrine   is    void,"    tliey    said, 

''  The    Goddess   flown  — 
Yet    wreaths    are    on    the    Altar   laid  — 

The    Altar  -  Stone 
Is    black    with    fumes    of   sacrifice, 
Albeit    She   has   fled   our   eyes. 

"  For,    it   may    be,    if   still    we   sing 
And   tend   the    Shrine, 


254  Other  Ferscs. 

Some    Deity   on    wandering   wing 

May   there    incline  ; 
And,    finding   all   in   order   meet, 
Stay   while    we   worship   at   Her   feet." 


The  Conundrum  of  the  IVork shops.         255 


THE     CONUNDRUM    OF    THE    WORKSHOPS. 

TTTHEK  the  flush   of   a   new-born  sun    fell   first 

on    Eden's   green    and    gold, 
Our  father  Adam  sat  under  the  Tree  and  scratched 

with   a   stick   in   the   mould ; 
And    the    first    rude    sketch    that    the    world    had 

seen    was   joy   to   his    mighty   heart, 
Till   the    Devil  whispered   behind  the  leaves:    ''It's 

pretty,    but   is    it   art  ? " 

Wherefore     he    called    to    his    wife,     and    fled    to 

fashion   his    work    anew  — 
The    first    of    his    race    who    cared    a   fig   for    the 

first,    most   dread    review ; 
And    he    left   his    lore    to   the   use    of    his    sons  — 

and   that   was    a    glorious    gain 
When    the    Devil    chuckled:    "Is    it   art?"    in    the 

ear   of   the   branded   Cain. 


256  other  Verses. 

They     builded    a    tower     to    shiver    the     sky    and 

wrench    the    stars    apart, 
Till   the    Devil    grunted    behind   the    bricks :     "  It's 

striking,    but   is    it    art  ? " 
The    stone    was    dropped    by    the    quarry  -  side,   and 

the    idle    derrick   swung. 
While   each   man   talked   of    the   aims   of   art,   and 

each   in    an    alien  tongue. 

They  fought  and  they  talked  in  the  north  and  the 

south,  they  talked  and  they  fought  in  the  west. 
Till    the    waters    rose   on    the    jabbering    land,    and 

the   poor   Red   Clay   had   rest  — 
Had    rest   till    the   dank    blank -canvas   dawn    when 

the    dove    Avas    preened   to    start, 
And    the    Devil     bubbled     below    the    keel :     "  It's 

human,    but   is    it   art  ? " 

The    tale   is   old   as    the    Eden    Tree  —  as    new   as 

the   new  -  cut   tootli  — 
For    each    man    knows    ere    his    lip -thatch    grows 

he    is    master   of   art   and   truth : 


The  Conundrum  of  the  Workshops.  257 

And    each    man    hears   as    the    twilight    nears,    to 

the   beat   of   his    dying   heart, 
The    Devil    drum    on    the    darkened    pane :    "  You 

did    it,    but    was    it   art  ? " 

We    have    learned    to    wliittle    the    Eden    Tree   to 

the   shape   of   a   surplice -peg. 
We   have    learned   to    bottle   our   parents   twain   in 

the   yolk   of   an   addled   egg, 
We    know    that    the    tail    must    wag    the    dog,   as 

the    horse    is   drawn   by   the   cart ; 
But    the    Devil   whoops,   as    he    whooped    of    old : 

"It's   clever,    but   is   it   art?" 

When   the    flicker   of    London    sun    falls    faint    on 

the    club  -  room's    green    and   gold. 
The    sons    of    Adam    sit    them   down    and    scratch 

with    their   pens    in    the    mould  — 
They  scratch  with  their  pens  in  the  mould  of  their 

graves,   and   the    ink   and   the   anguish   start 
When   the    Devil  mutters    behind  the  leaves:    "It's 

pretty,    but   is    it   art  ? " 


258  other  yerses. 

Now,    if   we   could   win   to    the    Eden    Tree   where 

the    four   great   rivers   flow, 
And   the   wreath    of    Eve   is   red    on    the    turf    as 

she   left   it   long   ago, 
And   if    we    could    come    when    the    sentry    slept, 

and   softly    scurry    through, 
By    the    favor   of    God   we    might    know    as    much 

—  as    our   father   Adam    knew. 


The  Explanation.  259 


THE    EXPLANATION. 

"T  OVE   and   Death   once  ceased   their  strife 

At   the    Tavern  of   Man's    Life. 
Called   for    wine,    and   threw  —  alas  !  — 
Each    his   quiver   on   the    grass. 
When   the    bout    was    o'er   the}^    found 
Mingled    arrows    strewed   the    ground. 
Hastily    they    gathered    then 
Each   the    loves    and   lives    of   men. 
Ah,   the    fateful   dawn   deceived ! 
Mingled   arrows    each    one    sheaved : 
Death's    dread    armory   was    stored 
With   the   shafts   he    most   abhorred : 
Love's    liglit   quiver   groaned   beneath 
Venom -headed   darts    of   Death. 


26o  other  Verses, 

Thus   it   was   tliey   wrought   our   woe 

At   the    Tavern   long   ago. 

Tell   me,    do   our  masters   know, 

Loosing    blindly   as   they   fly, 

(31d    men   love   while   young   men   die? 


The  Gift  of  the  Sea.  261 


THE    GIFT   OF    THE    SEA. 

'J^HE   dead   child   lay    in    the    shroud, 

And   the    widow    watched    beside;     • 
And   her   mother   slept,    and   the    Channel   swept 
The   gale    in    the    teeth   of   the    tide. 

But    the    widow    laughed    at   all. 

"I  have    lost   my   man   in    the    sea, 
And   the   child    is   dead.      Be   still,"   she   said, 

"  W  hat   more  can   ye   do   to   me  ? " 

And   the   widow   watched  the   dead, 

And   the   candle   guttered   low, 
And    she   tried    to   sing   the    Passing   Son- 

That    bids    the    poor   so  id    go. 


262  Other  Verses. 

And  ''  Mary   take   you   now,"  she   sang, 

"  That   lay   against   my   heart." 
And    "  j\Iary    smooth    your   crib   to-night," 

But   she    could   not   say    "  Depart." 

Then   came   a   cry   from   the   sea. 

But   the   sea -rime    blinded   the    glass. 

And    "  Heard   ye    nothing,   mother  ?  "   she    said ; 
"  'Tis  the    child   that   waits   to   pass." 

And   the    nodding   mother   sighed. 

"  'Tis    a   lambing    ewe    in   the    whin. 
For   why   should   the  christened  soul   cry   out. 

That   never   knew   of   sin  ? " 

"Oh,    feet    I    have    held    in    my    hand, 
Oh,    hands   at   ray    heart   to   catch. 

How   should    they   know   the    road   to   go. 
And   how  should   they  lift   the   latch  ? " 


The  Gift  of  the  Sea.  263 

They   laid   a   sheet   to   the   door, 

With   the    little    quilt   atop, 
That   it    might    not    hurt    from    the    cold    or   the 
dirt, 

But   the   crying   would   not   stop. 

The   widow   lifted   the   latch 

And   strained   her   eyes   to    see, 
And   opened   the   door   on    the   bitter   shore 

To   let   the   soul   go   free. 

There    was   neither   glimmer   nor   ghost. 
There   was   neither   spirit   nor   spark, 

And    "  Heard   ye    nothing,    mother  ?  "  she    said, 
"  'Tis   crying   for   me    in   the    dark." 

And    the    nodding    mother    sighed. 

"  'Tis    sorrow    makes    ye    dull ; 
Have   ye   yet   to    learn   the    cr}'    of   the   tern. 

Or   the    wail   of   the    wind  -  blown    gull  ? " 


264  other  Verses. 

"The    terns    are  blown    inland, 

The    gray    gull    follows    the    plough. 
'Twas    never   a   bird,    the    voice    I    heard, 

O    mother,    I    hear    it    now  ! " 

"  Lie    still,    dear   lamb,    lie    still  ; 

The    child   is    passed    from    harm, 
'Tis    the     ache    in     your    breast    that    broke     your 
rest. 

And   the    feel    of   an    empty    arm." 

She    puts    her   mother   aside, 

"  In    Mary's   name   let   be  ! 
For   the   peace   of   my   soul    I    must   go,"  she   said, 

And   she   went   to   the   calling   sea. 

In   the    heel   of   the    wind -bit   pier. 
Where    the    twisted   weed   was    piled, 

She    came    to  the   life   she  had  missed    by  an  hour, 
For   she   came    to   a   little   child. 


The  Gift  of  the  Sea.  265 

She   laid   it   into   her    breast, 

And   back   to    her   mother   she    came, 

But   it   wouhl   not   feed,    and   it    wouhl   not   heed, 
Though   slie   gave   it   her    own    child's    name. 

And   the   dead   child   dripped   on   her   breast. 
And    her   own    in   the    shroud   lay   stark; 

And,  '•  God    forgive   us,    mother,"    she    said, 
'•  We    let   it   die   in   the   dark ! " 


266  Other  Ferses. 


EVARRA    AND  HIS  GODS. 

Reach  here, 

This   is    the   story   of    Evarra  —  man  — 
Maker   of   Gods    in    lands   beyond    the   sea. 
Because   the   city    gave   him   of   her   gold, 
Because    the    caravans    brought   turquoises, 
Because    his    life    was    sheltered   by   the    King, 
So  that  no  man  should   maim   him,   none   should 

steal, 
Or   break    his    rest    with    babble    in    the    streets 
When    he    was    weary    after   toil,    he    made 
An   image   of   his   God   in    gold    and    pearl, 
With    turquoise   diadem    and   human    eyes, 
A    wonder   in   the    sunshine,    known    afar 
And   worshipped    by   the   King;    but,   drunk   with 

pride. 
Because   the   city   bowed   to   him    for   God, 


Evarra  and  His  Gods.  267 

He   wrote    above    the    shrine:    ''Thus    Gods    are 

made, 
And   whoso    makes   them   otherwise   shall   die." 
And  all  the  city  praised  him.    .    .    .    Then  he  died. 

Head   here   the   story   of  Evarra  —  man  — 
Maker   of   Gods   in    lands   beyond   the   sea. 
Because   his   city   had   no   wealth   to   give, 
Because   the   caravans   were    spoiled   afar, 
Because    his   life   was    threatened   by   the    King, 
So   that   all    men    despised    him    in    the    streets, 
He    hacked    the    living    rock,    with    sweat    and 

tears. 
And   reared   a   God   against   the    morning -gold, 
A   terror   in   the   sunshine,    seen   afar. 
And  worshipped   by  the    King ;    but,   drunk   witli 

pride, 
Because    the    city   fawned   to   bring   him    back, 
He    carved    upon    the    plinth :     "  Tims    Gods   are 

made, 


2  68  Other  yerses. 

And    whoso    makes    them    otherwise   shall   die." 
And   all   the  people  praised  him,    .    .    .    Then   he 
died. 

Head    here    the   story   of  Evarra  —  man  — 
Maker   of   Gods    in    lands   beyond   the   sea. 
Because   he   lived   among   a   simple   folk, 
Because   his    village    was   between    the    hills, 
Because    he    smeared    his    cheeks   with   blood   of 

ewes, 
He    cut    an    idol    from    a   fallen   pine, 
Smeared    blood   upon    its    cheeks,    and   wedged   a 

shell 
Above  its  brows  for  eye,  and  gave  it  hair 
Of  trailing  moss,  and  plaited  straw  for  crown. 
And  all  the  village  praised  him  for  this  craft, 
And  brought  him  butter,  honey,  milk,  and  curds. 
Wherefore,  because  the  shoutings  drove  him  mad, 
He  scratched  upon  that  log :  ''  Thus  Gods  are 
made, 


Evarra  and  His  Gods.  269 

A?id   whoso    makes   them   otliencise  shall   dle^ 
And   all   the    people    praised   him.    .   .   .   Then   he 
died. 

Read   here   the   stomj   of  Evarra  —  man  — 
Maker   of   Gods    in    lands   beyond   the   sea. 
Because   his    God   decreed   one   clot   of   blood 
Should  swerve  a  hair's  -  breadth  from   the  pulse's 

path, 
And   chafe   his    brain,    Evarra   mowed   alone. 
Rag -wrapped,    among   the   cattle   in   the    fields, 
Counting   his    fingers,    jesting    with   the   trees, 
And   mocking   at   the    mist,    until    his    God 
Drove    him    to   labor.       Out   of   dung   and   horns 
Dropped  in  the   mire  he  made  a  monstrous  God, 
Abhorrent,  shapeless,  crowned  with  plaintain  tufts. 
And  when   the_  cattle    lowed   at   twilight -time. 
He    dreamed    it    was   the    clamor   of   lost   crowds, 
And     howled    among    the    beasts :     "  Thus     Gods 
are   made, 


270  Other  Verses. 

Ayid   whoso    makes    them   otherwise   shall   die." 
Thereat   the  cattle   bellowed.  .   .  .  Then  he  died. 

Yet   at   the   last   he   came   to   Paradise, 
And  found  his  own  four  Gods,  and  that  he  wrote; 
And   marvelled,    being    very   near   to    God, 
What  oaf  on  earth  had   made  his  toil   God's  law. 
Till  God  said,  mocking:    "Mock  not.      These   be 

thine." 
Then  cried  Evarra:   "1  have  sinned!"  —  "Not  so. 
If  thou   hadst   Avritten   otherwise,   thy    Gods 
Had   rested    in   the    mountain    and   the   mine. 
And    I    were    poorer   by    four   wondrous    Gods, 
And   thy   more    wondrous   law,    Evarra.      Thine, 
Servant   of   shouting   crowds    and    lowing   kine." 
Thereat  with  laughing  mouth,  but  tear -wet  eyes, 
Evarra   cast  his    Gods   from   Paradise. 
This   is    the   story   of  Evarra  —  man  — 
Maker   of   Gods   in   lands   beyond   the   sea. 


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CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

University  of  California,  San  Diego 


DATE  DUE 

oec2o^/, 

CI  39 

UCSD  Libr. 

